


Mourning Doves.

by roachytozy



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No IT (King), Eventual Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, high school - college - beyond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 11:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13410420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachytozy/pseuds/roachytozy
Summary: “To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.” ― Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma.Richie and Stan dance around each other until they stumble over each other, unable to keep up the charade anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

The back wheel of the bicycle continued to spin while Richie's mind span off to somewhere else, he was thinking about his latest grand fantasy of becoming a rock 'n' roll star. In his mind, Richie was stood on a stage wearing his coke bottle glasses looking like a more dishevelled and dorky version of Buddy Holly. Lips pursed a few inches away from the microphone and fingers poised over the neck of his cream coloured and faux aged guitar preparing to start his song. He began with his band behind him and the crowd roared before them, it was glorious and Richie felt as though he were soaring. He spotted familiar faces in the sea of fans, all of his friends were there smiling up at him, he was definitely soaring.

"You up in the clouds Richie?" Stan's voice bounced off the walls of the garage and rattled around inside Richie's skull like a bullet shattering his reverie.

"I was until you came and burst my balloons serious Stan," Richie said as he whirled around toward Stan with a put upon pout, the other was back lit in the early summer glow that beamed through the open garage door, it made Stan appear important and grand as though the other were in the kind of painting that Richie had only glanced at in textbooks.

"What were you doing anyway, we're supposed to be studying," Stan asked, arms folded over his chest as he appraised Richie. The other's fingers were coated in the oil that made the bike chain slick, Richie's undershirt clung to the boy's frame from the sweltering heat and that awfully garish Hawaiian shirt was stained around the armpits. Stan wanted to keep his distance.

"I was just checking my new bike," Richie said, "making sure that she was oiled up right," he added, waggling his eyebrows as that mischievous smile spread crooked across his lips, fingers held out obscenely.

Stan simply rolled his eyes and ignored Richie's statement when he spoke again.

"Let's go inside and get you cleaned up, well as much as Richie Tozier can get clean," Stan muttered as he began toward the door, he knew that Richie would probably just wash his hands and nothing more, maybe a cursory spray of deodorant if Stan was lucky.

"Good one Stan," Richie chuckled and refrained from clapping Stan on the back as they made their way into the house. He flicked the switch beside the door and the ungodly noise of the garage door closing began to rattle and screech around the mostly empty garage, the noise was grating but Richie knew that Stan would pitch a fit if he left it open.

While Richie walked off to the kitchen, Stan moved toward the hallway. Stan opened and the front door, he knocked three times and closed the door again before he rejoined Richie in the kitchen where the other was washing his hands. He greeted Richie's mother as he always did, she was chopping vegetables while facing the front window, her rosy cheeks shone in the late afternoon light. They made small talk as Stan washed his own hands and then the boys left for Richie's room.

Usually they studied at Stan's but his father had business partners over that afternoon and he certainly couldn't bring Richie to the house, there was no telling what might come out of Richie's mouth at the best of times  let alone when he needed to keep his mouth shut and Richie knew that better than anyone. To make up for forcing them out of Stan's sanctuary, Richie had deep cleaned his room (which amounted to actually putting his things away, doing a bit of light dusting and hovering his floor voluntarily for the first time in his life). He knew it wasn't quite up to Stan's standards but he'd tried and it had taken awhile since he'd gotten distracted by the stray comic books and he had hyper focused on polishing the surface of his desk for maybe twenty minutes even though they wouldn't really be using it anyway.

"Is the room up to your standards Sir?" Richie asked in his British butler voice as he held the door open for Stan, his accent was terrible just like all of his other voices.

Stan took a moment to look over the room before he stepped inside, "it's fine," he murmured, he dropped his backpack down on the end of the bed and pulled out his study materials. It was more than he'd expected from Richie and effort that went into it made Stan a little embarrassed.

Richie toed off his shoes, grabbed his stuff from the desk and sat on cross-legged on the bed facing Stan as the other brought Richie's desk chair over in an odd compromise of their opposing sensibilities. Richie didn't comment on it and neither did Stan. They began to study in earnest, conversation sparked up and died sporadically between them. Mostly it was Richie who spoke first, easily distracted as he was, but Stan would set him back on track soon enough.

Throughout middle school and into high school, Richie had found that he studied best when Stan was around. He was usually fine with Mike and Bill. Mike just had to level him a look that quickly sent his eyes back to his textbooks, but Mike would also joke with him too and then nothing would get done once that started. Just like everyone else, if Bill told him to jump he would say 'how high?', all it took was short sharp 'shut up Richie' and that would be that, but not ten minutes later big Bill would be making his own jokes and Richie would be rolling on the floor. Eddie and him had never really worked well together, either they'd end up laughing (cackling) like the best of buds or they'd be at each other's throats within seconds, either way no studying or homework would be done. Ben was easily led astray and most times they ended up watching movies together, textbooks forgotten. Him and Beverly were the worst, studying and homework was never on the agenda when they were together, usually they wound up smoking in the club house, which barely three of them could fit into together anymore, and hotbox it when they had the means; if not they smoked stolen cigarettes and shot the shit wherever they wouldn't be found.

Stan was the best, he worked as reliably as the Japanese train system, Richie would often joke that he'd even write you an apology if he were ten minutes late. If Richie actually wanted to study and get things done he chose Stan.

When they were done, which was signified by Stan rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Richie dropped one of the new comic books he'd brought with his latest allowance atop Stan's textbooks. It was a common part of their study ritual. They usually ended when Richie decided it was time to stop and brought out a movie, switched on the radio or slapped down a comic book like he had done then.

"Time to take a break Stan the man," Richie said with a small smirk as he pushed his glasses up with his knuckle.

"Maybe it's time you took a shower," Stan returned sharply even as he plucked up the comic book and began to leaf through it, "study up on your hygiene."

"Oh, deep cut Stan," Richie said with faux hurt, falling back with his hands clutched at his heart, "my stinky heart," he continued, writing on the mattress as Stan ignored him.

Richie rolled off the mattress, pulled out a change of clothes and slipped out of the room leaving Stan to his own devices. Stan was only vaguely interested in the comic book, it was pretty silly and cracked two fart gags in less than three pages, it was definitely more up Richie's alley than his own. He dropped the comic back to the mattress and put his textbooks neatly back into his bag. The dying sun shone amber light into Richie's west facing bedroom, it caressed Stan's skin and reminded him that school would soon be over and summer would arrive in full force.

Every new season brought it's worries and joys, summer was sticky, dirty and Stan would be without any real  structure for nearly two months. On the other hand, Stan would be able to bird watch as much as he wanted, he wouldn't have to worry about the strange in between weather where you didn't know whether to wear a jacket or shorts and he'd be able to spend all of his time with his friends. He figured he'd just have to deal with it like he always did, take the good with the bad as some said.

Stan flicked through the comic book again without really reading it. Lost in thought about his plans for the summer, Bill and Eddie were really excited about this new board game Eddie had got recently, Richie and Beverly were excited to see some action flick and Mike and Ben had both got summer jobs at the library. Stan himself didn't have much of a plan for summer, mostly he thought about laying in the grass and watching the sky.

"Are you up in the clouds Stan?" Richie said, shooting Stan's own words back at him, from where he was leant against the doorframe smirking, his hair was damp and his glasses were slightly fogged up.

Richie's voice broke the pleasant reverie, Stan blinked up at the other as Richie entered the room. Long awkward limbs shuffled into the room, Stan was sure that Richie wasn't done growing, he figured Richie would be a few inches over six foot when he was done. The sun was now touching his back and Richie had stepped into its strip of light as he clambered atop the bed again. Even with awkwardness of Richie's limbs, Stan appreciated the gangly quality to Richie's movements, it reminded him that they were still young.

"I was thinking about summer," Stan replied in earnest.

"Yeah, you got any plans?" Richie asked, he shifted around on the mattress as he got comfortable.

"Might drive out to the nearest wood or whatever passes for it out of town," Stan murmured with a shrug, he wasn't sure he'd go that far out alone. He wasn't accustomed to driving for that long, but it was something he found himself thinking of from time to time. There was a little bit of wanderlust in his heart, that along with the excitement of possibly seeing birds he hadn't seen before kept the idea circling his mind.

"You want some company?" Richie asked, his long fingers were bent around the edge of a comic book and didn't meet Stan's gaze as he spoke.

Stan stared over at Richie long and hard, the other didn't look up from the comic the whole time. He knew that Richie was fully aware that Stan would want to stay quiet and sit still, things that Richie had often described as torturous, it already seemed like a disaster to him.  

"You'd be bored out of your mind and then you'd irritate the life out of me," Stan replied in his usual unaffected tone.

"It's not hard to take the life out of you Stan," Richie said with the small curl of a smile, which had Stan rolling his eyes again. "Come on, I promise I won't be that bad," he added, Richie discarded the comic book and crawled forward a little on his hands and knees, trying his best to be imploring.

"But you're admitting that you'll be bad," Stan returned, brows drawn low.

"I'm being realistic," Richie said, face four or five inches from Stan's. It was a strange tactic, but it certainly played into Stan's sensibilities.

Stan frowned, it'd be easier to take Bill or Ben or Eddie, they'd be interested in the wood and the structure of the land, it would turn into an adventure with Stan trailing behind them. He'd clutch his bird book in his hand and keep flicking his eyes to the sky, ears open to the sound of bird song. They'd be more compliant and would follow Stan's rules, heck they wouldn't touch the radio without asking. Still Stan found that he couldn't reject Richie's offer. Even if he already knew that they'd get into an argument about the radio, even if he knew that Richie would be a terrible navigator, even though he knew that Richie would insist that they stop at whatever germ infested diner was on the way, even if he knew that Richie wouldn't be able to sit still and stay quiet for more than maybe five minutes Stan wanted to take him along anyways.

He watched Richie's magnified eyes blink owlishly back at him, Stan knew that Richie would crack a joke soon if he didn't talk, something to smooth over the seemingly awkward air that was growing between them.

"Fine," Stan sighed as though he was doing Richie a favour, "but you've got to give me gas money," he added sternly.

"Sure thing chicken wing," Richie said before he lunged forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Stan's forehead.

Stan rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and Richie laughed as though he'd told a ripper of a joke. He watched the other roll around on the mattress, Richie held his stomach tight and Stan let a small smile spread across his lips. It might turn out to be a disaster, but that would be on future Stan and at that moment he couldn't quite find it within himself to care all that much about it.

 

* * *

 

Richie watched the scenery whip past them at the exact speed limit, he didn't mind the pace. Not thirty minutes into the drive, Richie had won the battle for dominance over the stereo by pointing out that Stan couldn't watch his hands for the entire ride, so he was riding high on that small victory. The map was loosely held in his lap and Richie sang upcoming directions between out of tune renditions of whatever the radio was playing.

His eyes began to wander on a long stretch of road, they ran along the dashboard and marvelled at the way Stan's fingers were curled around the steering wheel. Stan was a stickler for good skincare and Stan's skin shimmered in the summer light. The sleeves of Stan's shirt were rolled up to the elbow leaving the forearms exposed, Richie trailed his eyes up the length of Stan's arm and tried to stamp out the urge to touch, instead he tapped out the rhythm of the music against the dashboard. He noticed the way Stan's eyes flicked over to his fingers with mild irritation.

The older they'd gotten, the more Richie had found himself wanting to whilst also fearing to be alone with Stan. Their group of friends were tight knit, they'd been through hell and high water together, but at eighteen they weren't exactly the kind of group of friends that divulged their sexualities and insecurities to each other; sure there was that kind of unspoken knowing that was common among people that had known each other for maybe too long, but Richie wasn't about to announce it on a soapbox. Richie had his suspicions about Stan and himself, but he wasn't sure and he wasn't about to jeopardize one of his oldest friendships on a hunch. He wasn't about to risk being rejected by someone who'd always accepted him, even if they were telling him to shut up while they did it.

Richie figured he'd just continue to torture himself, sticking by Stan's side until next summer when they'd be worried about college. College was something that Richie didn't want to think about, sure his parents were already lining him up for scholarships he wasn't all that interested in, he wanted to have a genuinely carefree summer for possibly the last time in his life. He turned the radio up a notch and sang obnoxiously in Stan's direction.

When Stan stopped to fuel up, Richie brought a disgusting gas station egg salad sandwich and a whole bunch of snacks as Stan watched the numbers tick up waiting from the perfect moment to release his hold on the pump. Even with Richie's insufferable insistence that he be in charge of the stereo or the tapping against the dash board, the staring, the near constant shifting in his seat or the out of tune singing, Stan was actually enjoying himself.

He'd spent the first week of summer helping at his father's business with a particularly important client from out of town, Stan had been looking forward to the trip the entire time. It was what kept him going through the long night of number crunching and reading half crumpled receipts. Stan had been excited to see Richie that morning and Richie had been practically bouncing off the walls, Stan smiled softly to himself as he thought about it.

"Road trip!" Richie yelled as he returned to the car with the snacks in hand.

Stan ignored Richie as he paid with his card, he pulled a pack of tissues form his pocket, pulled one out and used it to punch in his number with. These places were disgusting, you never knew who had used it before you, gas stations on the whole made Stan feel a sticky kind of dirty that made him want to scrub his skin red raw. Stan ignored the urge and turned back to the car.

To Richie's credit, he hadn't brought any of the snacks that Stan had prohibited the first time most of the losers club had taken a ride in Stan's car, they'd all stood there listening as he reel off his list of rules and to their credit they'd kept to them for the most part. Stan dropped into the car to the sight of Richie munching on the egg salad, he held the container under himself to catch the crumbs. In a strange sort of way, it warmed Stan's heart.

They pulled into the small forest's dirt parking lot, there were two other cars and Stan was pretty sure they wouldn't run into anyone until about lunch time. Stan pulled out his flask from the glove compartment and that had Richie roaring with laughter.

"What?" Stan asked, aware of the way the glove compartment door was rested atop Richie's knees.

"Don't ever change Stanny, don't change," Richie said, smiling as he shook his head.

Stan simply closed the glove compartment and Richie climbed out of the car, bottle of Mountain Dew in hand. With a blanket under one arm, his bird book stuffed into his back pocket, his binoculars strapped around his neck and flask in his hand. He locked and unlocked the car four times before he joined Richie at the edge of the woods.

They walked together, all the while Richie made jokes about how many people probably came dogging around the woods. The thought of people doing it in their cars out near the woods made Stan's stomach churn. Finally, they found a clearing and Stan had an excuse to make Richie be quiet for a while.

Stan rolled out the blanket over the short grass, he sat upon it and lowered himself down until he was lying on his back. His bird book and flask on one side of him, his binoculars were rested upon his chest. The sky was clear and the wind was barely strong enough to kiss the bending arms of the tall grass ahead of them, it was almost the perfect conditions.

He spied movement from where Richie was sat cross-legged across from him, Stan's brow furrowed with ire as he watched Richie pull out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans. The sight of that familiar camel was enough to have Stan sneering.

"You're not smoking," Stan said sharply, he leant up on his elbows and glared daggers at the other.

"Oh c'mon Stan, I've got to sit here, be quiet and not smoke, are you trying to torture me?" Richie gripped, the box was open in his hands and his fingers toyed with the ends of the few cigarettes that were left.

"The birds won't show up if they smell smoke," Stan stated flatly.

"Right," Richie drew out as he stuffed the pack back into his pocket and Stan laid down again.

Richie moved down beside Stan, laid out shoulder to shoulder, and watched the sky along with the other. He was longer than Stan, enough for his ankles to reach over the edge of the blanket and the grass tickled the back of his legs. Richie didn't really mind, lying down beside Stan was surprisingly nice in a way that had Richie flushed. Their arms brushed every now and then, sending sparks of electricity up and down his veins. If Richie could have watched Stan from his periphery that's all he would have been doing, but alas Richie's eyesight was woefully terrible.   

It was amazing to see Stan so relaxed, even when the other was organising pencils and books or dusting his room Richie had never seen the other so at peace as he was when lying down and waiting for birds to suddenly appear in his vision.  Richie found it adorable, Stan's love and passion for birds was admirable, it was one of the few things that Stan would ignore being dirty for. Heck, he'd seen Stan stand in mud for two hours just for a chance to spot some special bird.

Suddenly there was a flurry of movement beside him as Stan brought the binoculars to his face, Richie had been thoroughly zoned out and hadn't noticed anything moving in the sky. He watched as Stan sat up and followed whatever it was with the binoculars, a smile slowly spread across his lips as he pulled the bird book into his lap. Stan's fingers slipped over the shapes of birds upon the pages, his eyes flicked down to the book and then back up to wherever the bird was.

Richie remembered when they were twelve and Stan had told him that he believed that there might actually be a phoenix out there somewhere, Richie felt his own smile push its way across his mouth at the memory. He wanted to see the look in Stan's eyes, his fingers itched with the urge to rip the binoculars off of Stan's face, but he didn't. It was just another regret he'd have to live with.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie's suspicions were right, the summer before college everyone was too busy to hang out and relax. It wasn't exactly like Richie didn't have things to do himself, but Richie was a master at avoiding things and college things were something Richie was determined to ignore for as long as possible. He didn't want to think about the fact that they'd all be at different corners of the country and he'd hardly get to see his friends for the next four years. So, instead of dealing with any of that mess, Richie spent all his time trying to convince the others to goof off with him.

"If you say it's summer one more f-f-fucking time..." Bill said with a touch of fury that made Richie flinch slightly.

"What you gonna do Bill, ignore the fact that it's summer?" Richie joked as he pointed up at the clear sky. It was a boiling day, Richie could feel the heat of the sidewalk through his sneakers, summer was making itself impossible to ignore. They should have been fooling around in the quarry, not on their way to the library to get a load of documents copied.

"I-I've got more important things to d-d-do than spend all summer hanging around  and smelling your f-farts," Bill returned, he adjusted the strap of his backpack upon his shoulder as he glared at Richie.

"Har-de-har-har Bill," Richie muttered as he shucked his shoulders from side to side, he brought his gangly legs up high before bringing them down again in a silly exaggerated walk. The only reaction he got was Eddie rolling his eyes.

"C'mon Richie give it a rest, we've all got things to do before semester starts," Ben said, he pushed Richie's shoulder lightly.

"Fine, I'll just enjoy what's left of my childhood on my own," Richie said, he stopped dead in his tracks as the other's continued on, "see ya later suckers," he yelled as he turned to leave.

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets and strode off toward Beverly's apartment building, he slammed his thumb against the yellowing button. Beverly buzzed him up after a moment or two, she opened the door and her red hair spilled down her the side of her neck. it was nicely lit by the shitty fluorescents in the corridor. Her face was akin to the glow of the shimmering summer sun, Richie hoped he could convince her to spend a few minutes smoking beside the building at the very least.

"Sorry Richie, but I really am busy," Beverly said with an apologetic look painstakingly plastered to her face, shattering Richie's hopes and dreams. "I've got reading to do and an actual summer assignment, these people are actually very serious," she said, her fingers twitched where they were caught around the edge of the door.

"Right, of course," Richie said, smiling as he tried not to let his disappointment show, "can I use your phone?"

"Sure," Beverly said with a gentle smile, "I really am sorry Rich, I'll make time to ruin my lungs with you later," Beverly added as she slipped back into the apartment, leaving the door open behind her.

"Ah, don't worry about it toots," Richie said in a 30's mobster accent as he followed her inside and closed the door behind himself, "it's alright, I'll just get a few of our boys to break their kneecaps, that'll get them to ease up on ya Bevie honey," he went on, pretending to smoke a cigar as he came up beside her.

"Oh Richie," Beverly snickered, she went back to her disorganised and cluttered desk. A sketchbook, pencils, pens, magazines and a book that looked mind numbingly dull were scattered across the paint peeling desk. 

Richie went back out into the hall where the clunky green telephone sat on a small side table and instantly dialled Mike's number, fingers twisted in the cord as he listened to the shrill ringing. The whole losers club pretty much knew each other's numbers off by heart, all besides Bill and Beverly who had to keep them written down, not that it mattered it was just something Richie thought about from time to time.

The ringing stopped abruptly and the suddenness of it brought Richie hurtling from his thoughts.

"Hello?" Mike's mom, Jessica Hanlon, answered the phone in her gentle but questioning tone.

"Hi Mrs Hanlon, it's Richie, is Mike there?" Richie asked, he tried his hardest not to get his hopes up.

"Mike's busy out in the fields Richie, I'm sorry," she said, a little tentative and Richie felt as though he were being handled with a little too much care.

"It's alright Mrs Hanlon, I'll see you around," Richie replied, smiling softly so that the disappointment didn't reach his voice.

"Okay goodbye now," Jessica said before hanging up.

Richie set the receiver down with a hard clunk and stared at the telephone for a long moment. There was only one person left, Richie was almost certain that Stan would be busy just like everyone else and if he found out for certain that Stan was otherwise occupied, Richie was worried that he'd have to actually go home and start packing or do something responsible for once. Maybe he should just give up and go home before Stan even had the chance to shut him down. Maybe he should actually look at which dorm he'd been put in and who he'd be sharing a dorm with instead of irritating all of his friends, or he could turn the radio up and burry his head in comic books all day until it was time to fall asleep.

Before he realised what he was doing Richie had the receiver in his hand and his fingers were punching in the Uris' number, the panic caught up with him as the ringing tone began to belt against his ear. There was still time to slam the receiver back down and run on home, but Richie found himself frozen to the spot.

"Hello, who is it?" Stan's voice came over the line and Richie hated how the sound of it made him feel boneless.

"Hey Stan the man, please tell me you're busy just like everyone else so I can go home and play with my pet snake until mother comes home," Richie said, the words rushed out of him, all jumbled together so there was no room for Stan to pick apart his anxious tone. He looked down the hall and stared at Beverly's back, she obviously hadn't heard a word he'd said, nose deep in a magazine as he hand twitched across the page of her sketchbook.

"Um, sorry to burst your bubble there Richie but I'm not busy," Stan's flat tone came after a moment and Richie's heart soared, he would have kissed Stan if he'd been there and even then he was still so afraid to do so.

"Okay, if you meet me at the quarry asap, I swear I'll sit still and stay quiet while you look for birds," Richie said in another rush, heart slamming against his ribs.

"Fine, I'll be there in twenty," Stan said and hung up the phone.

Richie said a brisk goodbye to Beverly and began to make his way toward the quarry. The sidewalk was still burning the soles of his sneakers, his veins thrummed with excitement, the excitement of actually having someone to hang out with. He tried to ignore the horny little voice that was always at the forefront of his mind that was telling him how Stan would be in the khaki shorts  and a thin polo shirt, it promised him that there would be skin on show.

When Richie came into the small clearing beside the cliff face that the quarry cut into, he found Stan slathering himself in sunscreen. Stan was laid out on his blanket with his usual bird watching gear neatly set up beside him. Richie wanted to smack himself for both being right and torturing himself with the forbidden fruit that was Stan's lotion coated skin. He shook his head, tried to rattle the dirty thoughts from his mind, but then again Richie held the reputation of the most foul mouthed boy in all of Derry. Basically Richie was doomed and resigned himself to it.

"Boy are you a sight for sore eyes," Richie grossed as he approached Stan, wolf-whistling with two fingers shoved into his mouth.

"Beep-beep Richie," Stan shot back, glare scathing as he looked up at the other.

Richie strode over and dropped down beside Stan, he dropped his head onto Stan's shoulder and watched as the other finished up rubbing the sunscreen into his calf. Stan let him stay there despite the way the heat had him sweating and the way his thick rimmed glasses were digging into Stan's flesh. He figured that Stan already had everything sorted out and scheduled his summer's college preparations, there was no way that Stan would have agreed to come out here so easily otherwise, it was probably why the other was so relaxed.

Stan flicked through the bird book in his lap with Richie's head still on his shoulder, Richie's body was hot against his own. He was flushed but neither of them mentioned it, Stan didn't even try to get Richie off of him. Instead of focusing on why he enjoyed the sensation of Richie's body pressed upon him Stan traced his fingers over the shapes of the birds on his page.

He was well aware that the summer would be a little more lonely, stressful and ultimately bitter than the previous ones. Stan was pretty sure that whenever they did manage to all get together, probably on his birthday in two weeks, there would be an underline tension between them as their joint but scattered departures from Derry drew closer. There was something a little tragic about it, but Stan was sure they'd meet over the holidays and Bill had already promised to write him, still they'd never really been away from each other for more than two weeks and Stan wasn't entirely sure how he'd handle it. The thought brought a shiver to his overheated body.

"You've been rubbing that tit for a while Stan, something up?" Richie asked, amusement thickly wound around his throat so that words had to struggle out of him.

"I was just thinking about how we're all getting split up, well except Ben and Beverly," Stan murmured as he closed the book with a thud.

"Yeah?" Richie said, his breath a little short and Stan noticed how Richie grew rigid beside him.

"They're off to California," Stan added as he traced his fingers up and down the book's spine.

"Yeah I know, I've been listening, I'm not the worst person in the world Stanley," Richie said, he rolled his eyes at Stan as he sat upright and lifted his head from the other's shoulder.

"You, Eddie and me are all off to New York together," Stan said flatly, eyes narrowed as they bore holes into Richie's skin. He and Eddie had been talking about going to the same college, mostly for moral support, clean freaks needed to stick together as Richie would have said.

"What?" Richie exclaimed, his brows disappeared into his fringe.

"So you are awful," Stan muttered and tsked, sometimes things just seemed to dribble out of Richie's ear no matter how smart the other was.

"We're not at the same college, are we?" Richie asked with the sneaking suspicion of a man that already knew the answer to what he was asking, his eyes became slits which was a comical sight through seen through the magnified lens of his glasses.

"Yes we are, I knew you'd been tuning out whenever we started talking about college," Stan said with the childlike but spiteful glee he always felt when got one over on Richie.

"Alright, alright I'm sorry, but hey you, me and Eds all together, that's great," Richie yammered, smiling that too wide smile he always did whenever he was trying to be apologetic.

"Have you even opened any of your college mail recently?" Stan asked, one brow arched as he looked over at Richie.

"I got something the other day, my mom opened it, seemed fine," Richie shrugged, if his mom didn't ask him any questions about it then he figured it wasn't that important.

Richie yelped as Stan jabbed his sharp elbow into Richie's ribs, he watched as Richie rubbed his side.

"Well Trashmouth, I guess I have the honour of telling you that we're stuck together for at least another year," Stan stated, smiling something wicked at Richie.

"No," Richie breathed, brows furrowed and mouth open in shock.

"We're roommates," Stan returned, face as expressionless as stone despite how much he was enjoying this.

"No," Richie repeated.

"Sharing a dorm," Stan said, he prodded Richie's chest for extra emphasis.

"I have to follow your stupid rules don't I? I can just picture it, you handing me a laminated cue card of numbered rules," Richie groaned, Stan knew he was putting on a show.

"Yeah, because having a clean room is going to be such a bummer," Stan said, rolling his eyes, he rolled his eyes so much around Richie that he was sure they'd roll right out of his head one of these days.

Richie sighed and slumped back down against Stan, the smaller wobbled for a moment before he reached out a hand to support himself. Richie had only kicked up a fuss because he was embarrassed at not knowing, it was a shitty thing to do, ignoring your friends because you were afraid of the future.

"I can't wait," he murmured against Stan's skin, nose pressed into Stan's neck.

Stan scoffed and Richie knew the other was just pretending not to laugh. The tight curls of Stan's hair tickled Richie's cheek and sensitive curve of his ear, he tried not to shift too much. A bird chirped in the distance and Stan brought the binoculars up to his face swiftly, the motion was so fast that Richie thought Stan was about to knock himself out. He giggled and wrapped himself around Stan, arms around the other's torso and his leg hook over Stan's. The smaller grumbled but made no move to throw him off.

Something fluttered through the trees and Stan was lost to the world, Richie watched the other closely, able to see the minute movements of Stan's face muscles. Stan swallowed softly before he licked his lips, his jaw muscles tightened as Stan watched the birds closely. Richie was enraptured and his heart began to thunder.

He slipped off of Stan and pressed his face into the blanket as he tried to cool himself off. Richie wanted to smoke, wanted to dampen the fire the was alight inside him, but that would keep the birds away.


	3. Chapter 3

The cigarette shook between Richie's fingers and ash flicked out and landed by the tree's trunk that he had his body bent against. He'd nearly smoked through half the pack as he waited for the others to arrive. He'd swiped the pack from the drugstore, it was almost too easy to steal things when Mr. Keene was preoccupied with Eddie and the arm length prescription he'd hand over, not that Richie would ever tell Eddie that. The thought of spending another four years with Stan, living with Stan for a least one year, had his stomach full of butterflies that were simultaneously being swallowed by the snakes writhing there. In short, Richie was both excited and absolutely terrified.

After the last time he and Stan had hung out, the instant Richie got home he had looked through his mail. Sure enough there was a letter detailing which building he'd be staying in and who is dorm mate would be, Stan's name was right there in plain ink, spelling out Richie's doom. He'd had a rush of panic churn sickly in his stomach at the thought of all the things he'd been avoiding doing. That night, Richie had actually started packing away some of his winter clothes, until he got distracted by a cassette tape in the pocket of his winter jacket.

Richie shot up onto his feet when he saw that familiar flash of flaming red hair appear from behind the bushes. After Bill, Beverly was the person that Richie could tell anything without fearing judgement or disgust. With relationship matters though, Beverly was the better choice, Bill was stunningly oblivious when it came to matters of the heart. He rushed up to her and took her by the shoulders, she jumped but didn't seem too surprised.

"Bev, Bevie, Miss Beverly Marsh I have fallen head over heels for the anal Jewish boy that's going to be my roommate for at least the next year, I've unknowingly stumbled into a world of self torture," Richie said shrilly, doing a voice that was supposed to be a hammer horror heroine but sounded nothing like it, as he shook Beverly's shoulders, his cigarette dangled dangerously from the corner of his mouth.

Beverly simply stared up at Richie, big round eyes blinking at him. Richie watched as a wicked smile slowly spread across her lips.

"Did you really just realise that you have a crush on Stan?" Beverly said incredulously, as though Richie was the biggest idiot in the world and Richie thought that he just might be.

"I didn't just realise, I just let myself realise," Richie mumbled, he ducked out of her gaze and scratched at the side of his head.

"You just thought that we'd all go to different colleges, that you two would grow apart and then you'd be able to forget about it?" Beverly giggled, she knew it might seem cruel, but Richie didn't need handling with mittens.

"Yeah, something like that..." Richie trailed off, he knew how dumb it was. Really he hadn't thought about it all, mostly Richie had been avoiding thinking about anything that made his chest ache and the whole college thing had really thrown him for a turn.

"You're a mess Richie," Beverly said, she reached up on the balls of her feet and delicately plucked the cigarette from his mouth and put her lips around it.

"I am," Richie sighed, he raked his fingers through his hair as he stepped away from her.

They sat down against the same tree Richie had been sat against before Beverly arrived, shoulder to shoulder. Beverly snatched the nearly empty carton of cigarettes from Richie's hands as he pulled it out again. He slumped back against the tree in defeat, he sure was a mess. Richie wasn't even prepared for college let alone living with the person he'd had the strongest crush on since Bill, which hadn't lasted long due to the other's aforementioned obliviousness. He figured he'd just have to suck it up and deal with it.

"You're not alone you know," Beverly said softly, pulling Richie from his thoughts.

"What?" Richie murmured, he rolled his head toward her. The sun was shining through the leaves of the tree above them, the light came through in patches that shone upon their bodies. A patch of light lit up Beverly's cheek and highlighted her litany freckles in a way that would have had Richie breathless when he was twelve but now only had him smiling back at her.

"Even if we're all scattered, you can still call us, we'll have telephones Richie," Beverly said, she sucked on what was left of the cigarette and tilted her chin toward the sky as she breathed out the swirling smoke. 

"Right," Richie nodded, he pulled on the fraying fabric at the edge of the rip at the knee of his jeans.

"Everything's not going to fall apart just because we're leaving for college," Beverly said, brows raised as she spoke. She turned away and snuffed out the cigarette against the tree, she took Richie's rough hand in her own and ran her thumb over the back of his knuckles as she looked at him.

Richie would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about everything crumbling in the distance between them, so he didn't say anything. Instead he slipped his fingers between Beverly's and let her comfort him. He'd always been afraid of them all getting bored of him and forgetting about him completely. It was the nagging doubt that whispered to him late at night, just as he was trying to fall asleep, it told him that none of them really liked him and that they were all pretending. Richie tired his best to ignore it, it was easier with Beverly's soft hand against his own.

He released a shaky breath and let his body go limp against the tree, eyes closed as he felt the soft skin of Beverly's thigh against the back of his hand. The movement a shifted his glasses to the edge of his nose but he didn't care much. His eyes fluttered open at the sensation of his glasses moving up his nose, Beverly's delicate ivory fingers pushed at the bridge of his glasses, looking at them made him go cross-eyed. He followed her retreating fingers with his eyes until they disappeared behind her hip and she spoke again.

"You better damn call me Richie, I'm not messing around, if I don't get a call from you at least once a month I'll be on the first flight to kick your ass," Beverly warned, her blue eyes stared piercingly at him. 

"Yowza," Richie spluttered and stared back at her as he let it set in, he let the furious burning compassion in Beverly's eyes sink before he was able to speak again, "yes ma'am," he saluted with a short sharp flick of his wrist.

Beverly rolled her eyes at that but still smiled at him all the same. Fear was a twisted thing, it could convince you that the people who loved you the most were only waiting for you to turn away to spit poison behind your back. Just as he was thinking that, Bill and Eddie came out into the clearing, Eddie had a magazine tucked under his arm and the two of them were sipping on bottles of Coca-Cola. Beverly squeezed Richie's hand once before she let go and rose to greet the other boys.

Richie smiled wide, it made him look a little goofy but he didn't care. All could think of was how dumb he'd been to think that a bit of distance would be able to pull them apart. They'd been through so much together already, thick and thin and everything in between. There was the summer when they'd all met, the same summer when Henry Bowers and his gang had terrorized all of them. They were just eleven then, but Henry had gone mad that summer. Maybe it was because Ben hadn't let him copy the answers to a test and that got him held back a year, maybe it was because Richie had out witted them when running through what passed for a department store in Derry, maybe it was because Ben, Beverly and Richie had given them some blows and managed to get away in the alleyway next to the theatre, maybe it was the apocalyptic rock fight where they'd all stood in front of a battered and bleeding Mike, maybe it was Bill's threatening words at the rock fight's end. Richie supposed it was a combination of all of those things, but it had ended with Eddie's arm in a cast and Henry being carted off to the loony bin after his father's body was found with a hole in the neck. And even after that, when Eddie had come out to them at fourteen, they'd all rallied around him and assured him that everything was okay, that there was nothing wrong with Eddie. When Beverly's parents finally divorced when they were fifteen, they'd all left their windows unlocked and had codes for when she needed them through that tremulous time. Then at sixteen, they'd all been there for Mike when his father fell ill with cancer and after months of battling it eventually died, they'd all helped out around the farm and the house that spring/summer. At seventeen, Ben had met with a rather cruel gym teacher and went on a health trick out of pure spite, Mike had let him help out at the farm and Stan was the only one of them that would get up early enough to pace Ben along his new paper route in his car. That same year, Richie, himself, Beverly and Bill had gone somewhat off the rails, besides the stealing of cigarettes, which at this point was practically pedestrian, they delved into drugs and risky casual sex. The others had been there for them, Stan had even come out in his car in the middle of the night to drag Richie out of the gutter, all the while Richie had been murmuring about Oscar Wilde in a far off manner as Stan manhandled him. Eventually they'd come to their senses and things had died down since then. Richie laughed at himself, at how ridiculous he'd been, after all this surely there was nothing that could tear them apart.

He sprang to his feet and bounded up to the others, he wrapped his arms around Eddie as the other squawked beneath him. For an almost straight A student, Richie sure could be dumb sometimes.  

 

* * *

 

The sound of the typewriter was awfully loud in Bill's stuffy room, Stan couldn't focus on a damned thing besides that raucous noise. Despite his discomfort he wasn't going to stop Bill, the other boy's fingers moved like lightning over the heavy keys and Stan marvelled at how little mistakes he made. He'd come over to Bill's house searching for the other's calming aura, whenever he got worked up Bill was the one that brought him back down to Earth quickly. The sound that pervaded the room wasn't exactly calming, but Stan found that he could get lost in the rhythm of it.

"Duh-don't you have an assignment or-or something?" Bill asked, he raised his voice over the noise.

"Just some required reading," Stan replied, his eyes flicked down to the book in his lap, he'd nearly made his way through it. He had one more and that hardly felt like proper preparation, but what did Stan know, he wasn't a professor.

Bill stopped typing then and the room suddenly felt far too quiet. It felt as though the room was pressing in on them, it felt like the hush that fell in the synagogue before the rabbi spoke. Stan watched as Bill turned around in his seat, arm over the back of the chair. 

"Wuh-ow, guh-getting off easy eh?" Bill asked, brow arched as a charming smile curved across his lips.

"You wanna try reading a book about charted accounting?" Stan returned, he held the book out toward Bill with mild amusement.

"Nuh-no thanks," Bill said with disgust. He turned back around, sitting straight in the chair, he reached up to the ceiling and stretched. Stan winced at the clicking sound as Bill linked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "I'm duh-definitely done for today," he added as he turned from the desk.

Stan stayed perched on the edge of Bill's bed and watched as the other rose from the desk, rounded the chair and dropped himself face first onto the mattress, Stan couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Bill's form bouncing slightly.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you Bill," Stan said as he shook his head.

"Oh c-come on, you'll be f-f-fine," Bill murmured as he rolled onto his side, he looked up at Stan earnestly, "wuh-what about m-me, I'll b-be all alone," he added, pretending to look put out, even pouting a little.

"Yeah, but you'll be lost in your fiction and I'll be stuck with Richie and Eddie bickering like there's no tomorrow," Stan returned sullenly, but he knew he'd actually grow to miss it if they weren't around, just like he knew he was going to miss the fire that alighted in Bill's eyes whenever Richie dared him to do something ridiculous. He knew that Bill knew this but the other didn't comment on it.

"Just th-think of all the nu-new birds you'll be able to finally s-s-see," Bill said, he reached up toward the ceiling and swiped his arm through the air in a long arch as though he were showing Stan the sky.

Stan dropped down against the mattress beside Bill and stared up at the cracked ceiling. Just as there was with everything, there were plenty of pros and cons to leaving for college. He was certainly excited for college, but he'd be leaving his hometown behind, he wasn't especially attached to the town itself it was more the people that lived within it. He'd miss his parents, he'd miss watching the birds with his father, he'd miss the way his lungs burned as he tried to keep up with Bill on Silver as he yelled 'HI-YO SILVER AWAY!' and belted down the street, he would miss the ingenious things that Ben would devise for them all to build together, he would miss the warm and friendly way that Mike smiled at him and his soft but low tones when spoke of the rich pasts that he was enraptured with and he would miss the tumbling sound of Beverly's laughter and the shining light in her eyes like spotlights through the ocean.

He knew he'd also miss his own bed and the familiarity of his own home, but he'd get used to dormitory eventually, places like that had their own schedules and rules and it wouldn't take long for him to learn them. Stan was eager to learn and his body ached with the burning need to be somewhere that didn't look or feel anything like Derry, New York would certainly be very different but the seasons were fairly similar. He wouldn't be alone and that was both a blessing and a curse, Eddie was one of his best friends but that didn't mean that Stan could be around him at all hours, sometimes Eddie would become shrill and he would get wild and panicky in a way that set Stan's teeth on edge. That and the fact that Eddie and Richie together were almost insufferable, either they were chumming around like the most sickeningly close of best friends or they were at each other's throats as though they were mortal enemies. And that led to Richie, Stan's best friend and the arbiter of his inner torment and turmoil.

Stan wasn't sure when he'd began to realise it and he certainly wasn't sure when it had started, but whenever they were alone Stan would find himself getting lost in the flick of Richie's long spider leg like lashes or the way that the lenses of Richie's glasses enlarged the other's eyes so much that Stan could see the different flecks and shades of colour there or any number of things that drove him up the wall. He felt things for his best friend that were more than friendship and he would have to live with those feelings for at least another four years unless he got over it, those feelings might intensify over the time they would be spending in close proximity.

He supposed that he'd grow accustomed to it in time, even if it was uncomfortable he would grow accustomed to that discomfort too.

"Yeah, I can't wait to see them," Stan said as he looked over at Bill and smiled softly.


	4. Chapter 4

It was like fate or destiny or divine intervention or whatever, Richie didn't care he just knew it was meant to be. He stood slack jawed as he stared at the window display of their local thrift store, there sat a book that proclaimed to be all about the mythical bird: the phoenix. The sun shone through the storefront and it caught the gold embossed illustration that spread its wings across the hardback cover.

Staring at it, Richie felt as though he were hurtling into the past and suddenly he was perched on the edge of Stan's bed with one of the other boy's large encyclopaedias resting heavily on his lap. There was a window seat which Stan's parents had built in after they'd caught him perched awkwardly on the sill in the early evenings, Stan sat upon it and he'd been staring out the window for a while as they tried to think of things to do; it was just after a particularly bad storm and the power hadn't come back to Stan's street yet, the streets outside were still dangerous and the wind was trashing through the trees, put simply they were bored out of their minds. Stan was still staring out the window as Richie flicked through the pages of the encyclopaedia without reading anything, he just looked at the pictures.

"Do you know what a phoenix is?" Stan asked suddenly, he turned away from the window then to face Richie.

"Erm, it's a bird that's like made out of fire or something, right?" Richie returned, certain that Stan already knew, he was of the opinion that there simply couldn't be a thing about birds that Stan didn't know.

"People aren't sure whether it's feathers just look like they're aflame or if they really are, but they die by catching alight, they do it on purpose so they can resurrect themselves from the ashes of their former selves ," Stan murmured with reverence as he looked back out the window.  "A new chick rises out of the ash," he added and he seemed far away.

"Do you think it really exists?" Richie asked, the encyclopaedia now forgotten beside him upon the mattress, it was starting to hurt his thighs anyways.

"I think so," Stan said quietly and Richie had felt something then and he hadn't known what it was, but nearly six years later Richie knew it for what it was. He'd felt that bone melting fondness countless times since then.

Richie burst through the into the store and brought the book with a few crumpled dollars from his front pocket, he winked at the cashier as she past him his change. He felt giddy, as though he were as high as a kite, it wasn't often that you stumbled upon the perfect gift.

 

* * *

 

Stan had been right, the seven of them hadn't met all together that summer until his birthday. His parents had brought him a brand new pair of binoculars and Stan had spent the entire morning looking through his bedroom window while adjusting the zoom and focus over and over again. He met his friends out near the quarry in the early afternoon, Stan always said it was the best bird watching spot besides the birdbath near the standpipe, and he'd brought his knew binoculars along with him. Just as he was approaching the group at the quarry Richie came bounding toward him.

"Well, young Stanny, how's it feel to finally catch up with the rest of us," Richie said with a smirk as he knocked into Stan, he dropped his arm around the other's shoulders.

"If we're talking about maturity then I'm light years ahead of you Richard," Stan returned flatly and ducked out of Richie's hold.

The whole gang cracked up at that, even Richie, and Stan bristled with pride, but he didn't show it. Eddie was crying with laughter, always happy see someone get one over on Richie. Bill was laughing fully as his shoulders shook. Beverly was laughing the loudest while Ben chuckled softly into her shoulder. Mike's laughter was low and rumbling as it rocked through his chest.

"Stan the man gets off a good one," Richie howled, slapping his hand across his thigh.

Once the laughter died down, they all wished Stan happy birthday in turn and helped him roll out his blanket. They sat in a circle upon it, there wasn't much space between them and their knees brushed together often. Stan had Bill on his right and Richie to his left, the group made a small pile of presents in the middle and Stan ran his eyes along the brightly coloured wrapping. Stan could tell that each of them were wrapped with care, even if some of them looked better wrapped than others.

Richie insisted that they sing him happy birthday before he was allowed to open any of the presents. He watched as he they sang, he felt embarrassed but it was nice all the same. Beverly, Ben and Mike all had beautiful singing voices, Eddie's was a little high and shrill, Bill's voice was rough but there was a lot of love in it and Richie's voice was so wildly off key and out of tune that Stan was sure he was doing it on purpose. They all clapped and whooped at the end, Richie smacked him on the back as though Stan had achieved something just by living for another year.

Finally he was allowed to reach over and pluck a present from the pile. He picked up the one that was most obviously Eddie's, it was almost completely covered in tape. It took him a while to get it open, the rest of the losers club laughed and Richie teased Eddie mercilessly. Beneath all that tape and the thin layer of paper was a navy blue knitted scarf, it was soft beneath Stan's fingers. He thanked Eddie, the smaller brimmed with pride, and folded it neatly before he set it aside.

The next one he picked up was unmistakably Mike's, the paper was fairly plain but the wrapping was neat, Stan unfolded it as carefully as it had been folded and pulled out a photo album full of pictures of all of them. The sight of it had a lump caught in his throat.

"Oh Mike," Stan grossed, "this is too much, shouldn't we share these out?" He asked, looking over at Mike as the other smiled wide at him.

"It's nothing," Mike waved him off, "everyone else has taken their share and I picked out the ones I thought you'd like best," he added, his dazzling smile was still there and Stan felt reassured by it.

Stan turned his eyes back to the photo album and ran his fingers along the margin as he tried not to touch the photographs. He swallowed thickly at the sight of the whole group of them huddled together, it was from when they were eleven, it might have been the summer of terror that they all tried to forget but it was also the summer that they became the losers club and his best friends.

"I think he's gonna cry," Richie muttered with amusement and Stan closed the album, he shot a sour look over at Richie as he set the album aside next to the scarf.

Stan picked up another present that was haphazardly wrapped, it felt a little puffy beneath Stan's had. It was Bill's, it was unmistakable and he flicked his eyes over to the other and found Bill smiling softly back at him. He opened it gently and ran his fingers over the faux leather bound address book.

"We all n-need to exchange a-addresses," Bill announced, as though he were explaining the present's purpose.

"It's perfect Bill, thanks," Stan returned quickly, he pulled the book free from the wrapping paper and set it aside with the rest of the presents.

The next present he chose was the neatest one, Ben's. The paper was bright and bore a fairly typical design, Stan opened it as carefully as he had the others. Stan felt Ben's anxious eyes upon him as he pulled out the cable knit sweater, it was cream in colour and Stan ran his fingers over the fabric as he folded the sweater.

"I heard it can get pretty cold in New York," Ben spoke up, his cheeks were tinted pink. He played with the cuff of his denim shorts and his eyes moved around Stan's face but they never landed on his eyes.

"Thank you Ben, it's very thoughtful," Stan said as he smiled at Ben, that only seemed to make the other more embarrassed. He turned his focus from Ben then, he set the sweater down and piled his other presents atop it.

He then reached over and picked up a small rectangular shaped box, Beverly had certainly pushed the boat out with her presentation. Even though the present itself was small, Beverly had wrapped string around it and topped it all off with a bow. Stan tried to delicately remove everything without breaking or tearing the paper. He took his time and even purposefully slowed down as Richie began to complain, Eddie smacked Richie on the arm and the other yelped. Stan eventually revealed the casing of a cassette tape, upon the cover was a wood thrush, a small brown bird with a white speckled chest. It was a tape of bird songs.

Richie erupted into laughter beside him and Eddie hid his laughter behind his hand, Stan ignored the others as he thanked Beverly. He noticed how her and Ben's fingers were entwined between them but said nothing of it.

"You can play it as you drive these two idiots to college," Beverly said, nodding in the direction of Eddie and Richie.

"I'd rather die," Eddie said dramatically before he chugged on his water bottle.

"Would you prefer to walk to and from New York then?" Stan asked flatly and Eddie nearly choked on the water, the rest of them laughed at that, he watched as Eddie pulled the bottle away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You wouldn't?" Eddie said incredulously, Stan shrugged and Eddie backed down. Stan watched with amusement as Eddie eyed the cassette tape with disdain.

"I can dig bird song," Richie said with laughter still in his voice, his knee dragged along Stan's thigh as he shifted, unable to sit still.

Stan stared at Richie for a moment too long, their eyes caught and Stan was sure then that they were too close together, Richie blinked back at him and showed him a lopsided and kind of goofy grin. It was only when Richie began to move toward the middle of the blanket that Stan realised only Richie's present was left. He watched as Richie leaned forward slightly, his long arm easily reached the centre, and pluck up the remaining gift.

"Happy fucking birthday Stanley," Richie said as he held out the present.

Stan rolled his eyes as he murmured a thanks and took the proffered gift. It was possibly the worst wrapped one next to Eddie's, the paper was garishly bright and had smiley faces printed across it. The faint aroma of cigarette smoke clung to the paper and Stan could smell it as he brought it toward him. There were already tiny tears in the paper from where Richie had handled it too roughly, Stan smiled as he took more care in unwrapping the present than Richie had in wrapping it.

The hardback cover of the book was a deep royal blue and Stan couldn't stop the smile that spread itself wide across his mouth at the sight of the golden phoenix spread across it, the book wasn't especially thick and seemed to be no more than three hundred pages long at the most. The book was worn and Stan could still see the remains of where a name had been written in pencil on the inside that Richie had erased to replace with his own message.

_Happy Birthday Stan the man,_

_I hope you enjoy, I won't tell anyone that you still believe in phoenixes_

_Love Richie._

There was a slathering of kisses and a drawing of a small smiley face below the message. For some reason, Stan found that this gift affected him more than the photo album. Maybe it had something to do with the silly crush he had or the fact that Richie had actually remembered something that Stan had only brought up once years ago. He didn't know, but he'd never felt as loved as he did that day.

"Thank you Richie," Stan murmured, he took great care in placing the book upon the small pile beneath the address book and the cassette tape.

Stan released a startled cry as Richie's arms wrapped around him and the other pulled him into a hug, one arm was wrapped around his front, forearm against his chest with Richie's hand clutched at his shoulder. Richie's other arm was around his back and those long slender fingers curled around his waist, his head was tucked under Richie's chin and Stan couldn't stop himself from breathing in a scent that was unmistakably Richie. It smelt like stale cigarette smoke, cheap cologne, something that smelt sort of like bubblegum and a heady scent that was Richie's all alone. Richie's hands were clammy upon him and the other's bony body jabbed against him, but Stan wasn't uncomfortable and even had to stop himself from leaning into the embrace.

"No problemo Stanny," Richie said in a goofy voice above Stan's head.

Once Stan had managed to struggle his way out of Richie's hold, Mike and Ben pulled out the picnic hamper from Mike's truck, Bill and Eddie got the cooler out of Bill's beat up second hand car and Beverly came with Stan as he packed his gifts into his backpack that he'd left in the trunk of his own car.

"You having a good birthday?" Beverly asked as Stan zipped up the backpack, she leaned against him, her flaming hair fell across his shoulder as she rested her head there.

"Yeah, it's great," Stan said as he looked back over to where the blanket was laid out, Eddie had Richie in a headlock. Richie was calling out for Bill to help him, but Bill was laughing too much to be of any help, Stan could see the streaks of tear rolling down Bill's face shining in the sunlight. Ben and Mike paid them no mind as they set up plates, cups and cutlery. "It really is," he added and smiled down at Beverly.

"Well I'm glad," Beverly said, she lifted her head and patted his chest as she smiled up at him.

Richie slammed into him then, for the second time that day, and Stan had to brace himself against the car so as though he didn't crash into Beverly. She giggled as Richie curled around Stan as though he were a ship and Richie was a giant squid or something equally terrifying.

"Come on, every one's waiting for you and Mike won't let me eat anything without you there," Richie whined as he tried to drag Stan away from the car. "Please sugar, your fans are waiting for you," he added, in some sort of female lounge singer from the fifties voice that Stan loathed, it just made Stan think of Jessica Rabbit in a weird sort of way.

"Beep beep Richie, I've got to close the trunk and lock it first," Stan said, his voice was strained from the way he struggled in Richie's grasp.

"I'll leave you boys to it," Beverly laughed from the beside them as she began to make her way back toward the others.

"You can't leave me like this Bev," Stan called and reached out for her as she passed them, but this didn't make her stop in fact it only made her laugh more.

Stan tried to reach up and close the trunk with Richie's arms holding him back, it took him three tried before he was able to get it to latch with the way Richie was keeping him down. Getting his keys out of his pocket was the hardest part, he groaned with irritation. Stan didn't want to give Richie the satisfaction of hearing him yell or having him thrash in the other's hold. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and pulled at Richie's wrists with both of his hands, Richie might have been taller but Stan had always been the stronger of the two. He stumbled out of Richie's grasp and pushed the other away before he turned to lock the trunk to the tune of Richie's sniggering. And then he unlocked and locked it again three more times.

Their eyes caught, the second time that day also, as Stan finally turned from the car. Richie's eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings magnified as they were through the lens of his glasses, the ruddy brown of Richie's eyes turned a rich mahogany in the warm nearly blinding afternoon light. Stan was vaguely aware of the way Richie's shirt clung to his overheated body, Richie's smile wasn't so wide anymore and there seemed to be a slight pinkish tint to his cheeks. Stan felt as though he were under a spell, it felt like he was being drawn closer to Richie, as though he were falling into that enraptured gaze.

Stan cleared his throat and that seemed to break the spell.

"Thanks for the book Richie, it's great," Stan said earnestly, he felt a little flushed as he said it but he still meant it.

"It's nothing," Richie said, shrugging Stan off as he scratched at his scalp. They shared another look then, something bashful  and timid, they were both smiling softly at each other.

"Come the fuck on!" Eddie's voice broke through the pregnant silence and broke the spell once and for all.

Stan and Richie rejoined the group and Stan continued to have the best birthday of his entire life, the whole time there was something underneath it all, something that reminded him of the faint buzzing of florescent lights.


	5. Chapter 5

Soft dirty blonde curls fell across Richie's neck, he looked down but was only able to see the top of Stan's head, he supposed the that other must have fallen asleep while they were watching the movie. Since Bill's parents had gone out of town for the night and were staying at a hotel, they wouldn't be back until the next afternoon and Georgie was still at summer camp, they'd taken the opportunity of an empty house to have a proper group gathering.

First off they'd played Uno. Bill had been determined to beat Stan, who usually won everything, Ben and Beverly had joined up to take everyone else down like they always did, Eddie was determined to screw Richie over as much as possible since his turn was just before Richie's and Mike didn't seem to care either way, he was just enjoying himself. Richie just wanted to enjoy himself too, which to him usually meant winding Eddie up. In the end Richie was sure he was holding nearly half the deck, but he'd gotten Eddie back when he'd turned the goes counter-clockwise. Stan had snapped at Ben and Beverly for cheating and Bill had wound up on the wrong end of two pick up fours. Mike had won like the slow and steady turtle he was and he'd been very quiet about his victory, Richie had taken it upon himself to rue it over Stan in Mike's stead, because he knew Stan was not so secretly a sore loser.

After Richie and Stan had played the Uno equivalent of fifty-two card pick up, they'd ordered pizza and Beverly put on a movie in the living room. Mike and Richie shared the ham and pineapple, much to Eddie's disgust. Bill, Ben and Beverly shared the pork, mushroom and barbecue one while Stan and Eddie had the plain one. They ate all circled around the open pizza boxes on the floor while Sixteen Candles played on the TV. Richie, ever the opportunist had eaten whatever the others couldn't, while making the loudest noises as he sat beside Eddie. He'd rolled on the floor, hand held against his stomach as he laugh, when Eddie had begun to make fake but very loud retching noises.

Once they were finished eating and had helped Bill clean up, Sixteen Candles was over and Beverly had decided that Sleepaway Camp was a good follow up. They'd moved to more comfortable positions for that movie. Mike, Eddie, Stan and Richie were sat on the couch with Eddie and Stan in the middle. Ben and Beverly were curled up together on the armchair, Bill was sat on the floor with cushions beneath him and Eddie's legs behind him.

That was how they were sat when Stan had began to fall asleep. Richie hadn't really noticed it at first, he'd been pretty enthralled with the movie and Eddie's sudden bursts of commentary, Eddie wasn't scared he just nit-picked loudly and was often grossed out by the gore. Eventually though, Richie began to notice that Stan's weight was shifting toward him, their shoulders were pressed together and about halfway through the movie Stan's head had dropped atop his shoulder. Those familiar curls fell across the length of his neck, Stan's soft breath puffed gently against his skin and suddenly Richie couldn't focus on the movie anymore.

Thoughts of Stan flooded his mind and blocked everything else out. He could feel the other's body heat seeping through his clothes even though Richie always ran hot, Stan was simply adding to his abnormally high temperature. Richie felt aflame, he felt molten everywhere they were touching but he just couldn't move away, it was taking him everything he had not to lean into it. As Stan breathed and shifted, his hair tickled Richie and he tried not to shiver or let on at all, but just staying still was driving him up the wall.

Richie tried not to move least he disturb Stan. The other was usually wound so tight, Richie sometimes thought that Stan would one day take in one breath too many and burst like an over inflated balloon, so he figured that Stan could do with a rest without everyone else knowing. If that meant maybe another half hour of complete and total torture then that was fine with Richie, he had to get desensitised to Stan eventually.

 He stared down at Stan's sleep peaceful face, Stan would never look like that when he was awake, at least not at Richie. Stan's face was always a second away from turning to a frown or a scowl, even when he was smiling he never looked as carefree or peaceful as he did then. He noticed how Stan's light eyelashes spread over his gently sun-kissed skin and internally cursed himself for looking away from the TV at all. Richie tried not to look at Stan's lips, but his eyes began to move on their own and he found them trailing those pink curves without his permission. They looked so soft, Richie had never seen Stan with chapped lips and he was certain that they'd feel smooth, warm and perfectly soft against his own.

"Oh my fucking god," Eddie exclaimed, drawing Richie's attention back to the movie, "is that a fucking dick?!"

Richie looked over to the screen to find the antagonist standing rigidly without a shred of clothes on and there between their legs was definitely a penis.

"What, you never seen one before Eds?" Richie asked with a malicious smirk as everyone began to laugh. Stan stirred beside him then, brought back to the world of the living by the laughter swirling around him, they shared a short look before Stan straightened himself up.

"Fuck off Richie, it was just a surprise," Eddie said, brows scrunched together and his lip curled as he turned to Richie.

Stan had moved completely from him then and Richie would have been lying if he said he'd didn't miss the contact, but he played it off like he didn't notice. He thought that Stan must have been embarrassed, probably a little disorientated too. Richie chanced a glance at Stan and found his cheeks a little flushed, but it was only visible to Richie since he was so close, he watched for a moment as Stan's eyes flicked over the credits that now ran down the screen before he spoke again.

"I'll show ya another surprise if you want Eddie Spaghetti," Richie said as he gripped his crotch and thrust it in Eddie's direction. 

"Buh-beep beep Richie," Bill said, but there was laughter in his tone, he was almost smirking up at Richie from between Eddie's knees.

"Can you not put that thing in my face?" Stan murmured, voice still thick with sleep, as he arched a brow up at Richie.

"Too much man for ya Stan?" Richie said, waggling his eyebrows, but he sat back down all the same.

Bill crawled forward to rewind the video and switched the TV back to the broadcast channels, the night news was playing but no one was paying attention to it. He stayed by the VCR with the case held loosely in his hand as he watched the numbers roll backward when Eddie heaved a loud yawn, which caught everyone's attention, and a single tear rolled out of the corner of his right eye.

"Hey Bill, where are we sleeping?" Beverly asked, she was curled in Ben's lap and had her head pressed against his, her eyelids were heavy and she stifled her own yawn in Ben's hair.

"My p-parents said you c-could stay in the-their room as long as you duh-don't g-get freaky," Bill said, smiling at her from where he was still sat in front of the TV.

"We won't," Ben promised, looking a fair bit flushed at just the thought of it. Beverly giggled against him.

"What about the rest of us?" Mike asked, his low but gentle tone only worked to make everyone else more sleepy, but he didn't seem to notice as he popped a gummy bear into his mouth and chewed as he listened to Bill.

"Someone c-can stay in my room wuh-with me, but I th-think only one person c-can stay in Georgie's," Bill explained, the whirring of the VCR stopped as Bill finished talking. He pushed the eject button and the VCR spat the video tape out, Bill put it back in its case before he turned back to the group.

"Well, I'll take the couch, I'm definitely too long to stay in your brother's room," Richie said, he stretched out his legs and rested his heels upon the coffee table as though he were making a point.

"I guess I'm the only one short enough to stay comfortably in Georgie's room right?" Eddie said, he only seemed slightly put out about it, he wasn't exactly keen on his height being pointed out.

"Well, y-you are the s-same height," Bill returned with a shrug.

"Fine," Eddie groaned, he rose from his seat between Mike and Stan and stretched out as much as he could, reaching up toward the ceiling. "Who gets the short straw and has to stay down here with Richie?" He asked, cheering up a little at the thought of someone else's misery.

"Hey Eds, are you just sour because you don't get to stay with me?" Richie said and shot a wink in Eddie's direction.

"I'd rather sleep in a ditch than in the same room as you," Eddie replied, his voice dripped with disdain.

"Jeez Eds-"

"Stop calling me that," Eddie squawked and his arms shot in the air.

"Beep beep Richie," Stan grumbled beside him, "I'll stay down here," he sighed, as though he were doing them all a great favour.

Richie got a little excited at the thought even though he knew nothing would happen, knew that he'd just be torturing himself more, then again he'd have to get used to sleeping in the same room as Stan at some point. They were going to be living together for the next year and Richie would have to smother his crush and get the hell over it somehow.

"At least someone loves me," Richie said, he wrapped his arm around Stan's shoulders.

"I've got to get used to your snoring at some point," Stan shrugged but didn't push Richie away or make an effort to get out of the other's hold.

"I love you too Stan," Richie grossed and held Stan tighter, making kissy noises at the other, that was when Stan began to struggle and quickly got out of Richie's grasp.

"I'm going to bed," Eddie announced, he went off into the hallway to pick up his backpack and bid everyone goodnight. Bill went up with him, to help Eddie get his bearings or something, Richie wasn't exactly paying attention.

Soon enough, the rest were following Eddie and Bill upstairs, leaving Richie and Stan alone on the ground floor. Stan had gone off to change his clothes, brush his teeth and whatever else Stan did during his bedtime routine. Bill had thrown Richie down a blanket and a couple of pillows, Richie didn't brush his teeth since he hadn't brought his tooth brush and simply took off his jeans and his over shirt before he slipped under the blanket atop the couch. Shortly after, Stan came back into the room in his button up pyjamas with a rolled up sleeping bag and a pillow under his arm.

"You really came prepared boy scout," Richie said as he watched Stan set his things down and push aside the coffee table.

"It's just a sleeping bag Richie," Stan replied dully without sparing Richie a glance.

"You even brought your own pillow," Richie exclaimed, he gestured to the aforementioned pillow on the floor as he adjusted his own behind him against the arm of the couch. 

Stan simply glared at him for a second before he rolled out the sleeping bag in front of the couch. He then  took off his watch and put it down gently on the coffee table, Richie watched as Stan adjusted the watch's position. Stan's sleep wear was either silk or faux silk and Richie could see the bumps of Stan's spine through it as he leant over the table. He wanted to reach out and find out whether it was real silk or not, he wanted slide his hand under that loose shirt and feel Stan's skin beneath his own, but he didn't and Richie gnawed on his nails instead. Stan walked over to the TV and the VCR and switched them both off before doing the same at the wall socket, darkness fell over the room and Richie shifted further beneath the blanket until his head was fully rested against the pillow, the couch wasn't entirely long enough for Richie so he had to bend his legs slightly.

As Stan moved back toward the couch, he was caught in the dying light of the TV screen, it backlit his form and Richie was caught by the sight. There was a soft halo around Stan's head from the way the light touched his blonde hair. Richie found his throat suddenly very dry as he swallowed and continued to watch, but he found it harder to see as the room grew darker.

"Are you gonna take your glasses off?" Stan said as he got to the floor, he was on his knees in front of Richie.

Richie had almost forgotten all about his glasses, he often fell asleep with them on much to his mother's chagrin. He slipped them off his face and held them out toward Stan, he could barely see the other without the glasses, he felt more than saw Stan take them and they quickly slipped out of his vision altogether along with Stan as the other laid down. There was a whole lot of rustling as Stan got into the sleeping bag, but it wasn't long before silence filled the room.

At first Richie had thought he'd never be able to fall asleep with Stan so close to him. It wasn't as though it was the first time they'd slept in the same room, they'd been best friends since they'd met on the first day of elementary school and since then they had stayed at each other's houses on many occasions. Somehow, this night was different. It was the first night they had spent alone together after Richie had allowed himself to realise his crush on Stan and he was still getting over how stupid that sounded. Richie's heart was practically jumping out of his chest and his head was swimming as he thought about how easy it would be to drop his hand down from the couch and lose it in Stan's soft curls.

He tried to move his thoughts from Stan and instead focused on trying to fall asleep, but his mind kept wandering back to the boy sleeping close beside him. Richie did eventually fall asleep, face pressed into the pillow as he snored and drooled a little onto Bill's pillow, completely unaware of the turmoil that Stan was going through just slightly below him.


	6. Chapter 6

They spent their last day in Derry out in the Barrens, all seven of them were sat around the clubhouse, they could no longer fit in its confines and so they sat on the edge with their legs dangling inside it. It wasn't the last day for all of them, but it was the last day they'd be able to meet all together, the official last meeting of the losers club before they let for college. Beverly and Ben were going first, Ben's and Beverly's mothers had chipped in together to rent a van. Beverly's mom couldn't get the time off work, so Ben's mom would be the only one going with them, maybe they'd thought about having a romantic cross-country road trip but that would have to wait for another time. Next would be Bill, his family was going to fly over with him to Seattle, they'd personally send him off as a family unit. Then Stan and Richie would bundle up in Stan's car, while Eddie's mom would drive him to New York. Mike would be last, he was staying in state and only be driving up to Orono, in truth Mike could have gone almost anywhere but he'd wanted to stay close to home for his mom and so he chose the university of Maine.

Ben and Beverly were leaving the next day, since their trip would be so long. Stan couldn't help but think of how strange it would be without those two. There was a time way back, just before the summer when they were eleven, when it had been just Stan, Bill, Eddie and Richie. Now though, he couldn't even think of the group without Ben, let alone him and Beverly.

The heels of Stan's shoes banged against the wall of the club house, only Richie, Ben and Mike could fully reach the bottom, Stan and Bill could just scrape the balls of their feet against it while Beverly and Eddie couldn't reach it at all. Stan tried to focus on these sorts of things instead of the fact that they would soon be separating. It didn't help that the mood was already pretty low as Ben and Beverly's departure loomed over them.

Stan looked up without really knowing why to find Richie staring across at him, the moment their eyes caught Richie looked away as though the gaze had burnt him. He watched as Richie began to bother Eddie, the smaller boy squawked and hollered as Richie tried to tickle him. Bill reached over then and alighted his fingers upon Richie's ribs, tickling him instead. Richie began to howl with laughter, writhing beneath Bill's ministrations. Eddie watched and laughed wickedly, he was soon upon Richie too, exacting his revenge. Beverly began to tickle Ben and the boy shook and rumbled with shuddering laughter. Mike and Stan shared a glance but made no move to pounce each other, they simply watched the chaos unfold before them. It all came to a head when Richie slipped and fell awkwardly into what was left of the clubhouse.

Richie had tried to hold onto the ground but only brought a chunk of it with him as he landed in a jumbled heap in the middle of the clubhouse while everyone laughed around him, he had clumps of grass and dirt held between his fingers and beneath his fingernails. Stan flinched as Richie came up beside him and took the empty spot next to him.

"You aren't going to start attacking me are you Stanley my man?" Richie said as he rubbed his hands on his jeans.

"I'm not gonna touch you if that's what you mean," Stan returned, he held his arms folded in his lap, fingers curled around his forearms.

"You started it Richard," Eddie yelled despite the short distance between them all, Richie just waved him off.

They sat like that talking for a while, reminiscing about previous escapades and Stan marvelled at how stupid and brave they'd been. The used to call him the 'smallest adult in the world', but some of the things they were describing made Stan balk, he was shocked to hear what he'd been able to do with the innocence and naivety of youth or just a little less maturity. They traded stories for a while and basked in the sunlight, Stan felt warm inside and out, he basked in it and shared his own stories with the rest.

Once the stories began to stop flowing, Beverly and Richie moved away from the group to smoke, Eddie was kicking up a fuss about it even as Richie and Beverly stood. Stan watched them, watched the small flame of the lighter that flicked between them. The sun was beginning its journey toward the horizon, it felt as though the sun moved inch by slow inch until somehow it was halfway below the horizon and you swore it had been riding high only a second ago. Stan, like Eddie, had never seen the appeal of smoking, the negative effects were widely known and it just made everything smell bad. Still he couldn't take his eyes off the way Richie brought the cigarette to his mouth. Smoke slipped out of Richie's nose and curled thinly in front of Richie's face and under his glasses, Stan was captivated by it. His eyes were glued to the motion of Richie's fingers as he was pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. Smoke billowed from his lips and twisted thickly as it disappeared in the air between Richie and Beverly.

Then their eyes met again across the distance and it was Stan turned away in that instant. His heart pounded in his chest, Stan looked at his palms as he felt them grow clammy. Maybe he was being too obvious, maybe he was a total mess, maybe he was completely ruined and the year ahead would be the worst year of his life. He looked up to find that Eddie was looking back at him, the smaller had a clear sightline of exactly what Stan had been staring at, thankfully all Eddie did was smirk at him.

"You're not taking Silver to college," Ben exclaimed, evidently surprised as he stared at Bill, eyebrows hidden behind his fringe. Stan was glad to have the distraction, he didn't need to feel Eddie's eyes all over him.

"Why n-not, it means I c-can get around easily and only an idiot would st-steal Silver," Bill replied and shrugged his shoulders at Ben. It was true though, Silver wasn't the best looking bike, it required constant maintenance and you certainly wouldn't get any money from selling it if you could even find someone to sell it to at all.

"I don't think it's that bad of an idea," Mike said thoughtfully, "it'll keep Bill fit and he'll be able to get around campus just fine, I don't see nothing wrong with it," he added, he clapped a firm hand around Bill's shoulder and Bill smiled back at him.

"Yeah, I think it's fine," Stan said, agreeing with Mike.

"At least he's finally grown into it, remember when were younger and how small Bill was compared to that thing," Eddie said, his hands frantically waved around as he spoke. "My mom thought you were gonna end up killing yourself on that bike."

"Your mom was w-wrong though," Bill said with a bright smile.

"My mom's always wrong," Eddie grumbled, he fiddled with his fingers in his lap and adverted his eyes, everyone searched for something to say in the silence that followed.

"It's not exactly a babe magnet though," Ben said with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"Babe magnet, you guys wouldn't be talking about little ole me would ya," Richie said as he dropped back down beside Stan, the motion made the smell of smoke waft from him.

"We're talking about Silver," Stan announced flatly as Richie continued to wriggle his eyebrows.

"I d-don't care whether or not he attracts th-the ladies, I'm t-taking Silver to c-college with m-me," Bill said with defiance despite the fact that no one was really opposing him.

Beverly came over then and took her place next to Ben, despite the smoke, Ben leaned into her straight away and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She didn't smoke as much as Richie, she'd begun to cut down once she and Ben started dating, she only really smoked with Richie now.

"I'm surprised that bike's lasted so long, it had rust on it when you got it," Stan said and Eddie nodded along. When he'd first got Silver, Bill and Eddie had spent an entire day fixing it up, Stan could still remember how awe struck and horrified he'd been when Bill had showed it off that spring.

"Big Bill keeps it oiled up good though, if you know what I mean," Richie said, smirking wickedly as he jabbed his elbow against Stan's arm. Stan only rolled his eyes while Eddie groaned across from them.

"I don't think Bill jizzes onto his bike Richie," Ben said and the group fell into fits of laughter, Beverly's laughter was by far the loudest as she curled against Ben's side.

"That's so disgusting," Eddie grossed through his own laughter, the heel of his palm pressed against his mouth.

As the laughter began to die down, Ben checked his watch and showed Beverly, the couple shared a whispered discussion. Stan watched the way they leaned into each other with fondness, he tried not to imagine himself and Richie in their position.

"Sorry to break up the party but we've got to go guys, gotta get prepared for tomorrow," Beverly announced and the boys groaned but made no attempt to keep them.

They all rose from around the clubhouse, preparing to say goodbye to the couple when Bill stood and held his hands out slightly before him, palms upturned to the sky and everyone fell silent around him.

"Let's all hold hands, before we go," Bill said, they all heard the _'for the last time'_ but it went unsaid.

No one questioned it as they grabbed each other's hands and smiled at each other, blindingly bright as they shared fond looks. It felt as though they were closing the book on their childhood or that chapter at least. When the night was over, when they said their final goodbyes to Ben and Beverly the next morning, Stan could already see the van growing smaller and smaller as it rode into the distance. Beverly broke the circle and gave each of them a hug, when she wrapped her arms around Stan, he could smell the faint scent of smoke on her hair beneath her perfume. He held her tightly before letting her go.

The other's began to leave one after another, Stan didn't want to go home, didn't want to sleep, the thought of it had him feeling like he would be letting something defeat him. His eyes were drawn toward the boy standing pensively close by, Richie was stood staring out at the small shadows in the distance that were their friends, the last dying burning sunlight splattered across the sky behind them. He watched as Richie gnawed on his nails, his other hand gripped the almost empty carton of cigarettes that Stan had grown to loathe instead of simply hate.

"We'll see them tomorrow," Stan said, he didn't know whether he was talking to himself or projecting his own worries onto Richie or actually helping the other, "and then we'll see them on Thanksgiving break and the holidays and then summer and so on," he added, the explanation made himself feel calmer, but it seemed to make Richie feel worse.

"So I should just get over myself and act like losing my friends is fine and normal?" Richie whirled on Stan, his jaw was set and his were aflame as he stared down at Stan.

"You're not losing them," Stan said and thought of the now filled out address book on his desk at home just to calm himself down. "You know you're not," he continued, he reached out and grasped Richie's arm, around the wrist, before the other could reach up to bite his nails again.

"Yeah, I know," Richie muttered, they stood there like that for a moment and Stan was soon able to hear Richie's somewhat heavy breath. "Can I walk you home Stanley?" He asks with a flourish as he bowed before Stan, who still had Richie's arm in his grasp.

"You can walk beside me if you want," Stan said as he let go of Richie, he dropped his hand back down to his side.

They walked in silence back toward the street, legs moving through the tall grass that came up to Stan's thigh. He reached his hand down and felt the grass against his palm. Richie walked beside him, but seemed to be keeping his distance. Stan wanted to reach out and take Richie's hand, wanted to assure the other that he wasn't alone, wouldn't be alone, Stan wanted to reassure himself of that fact too. They'd be together and they'd have Eddie at college with them, there wasn't anything to be worried about.

There were things to be worried about though, for instance, Stan still didn't know what he was going to do about his crush on Richie. Even as they were walking toward the glow of the street lights in the darkness, he wanted feel Richie through the inky shadows that he could barely penetrate with his eyes, wanted to feel the searing heat of Richie's skin against his palms. Stan didn't do it, but he didn't stop thinking about it either.

They stepped into the light as they reached the kissing bridge, the wood was littered with names that had been carved into it, he recognised a few of them. Stan wondered about how the wood managed to continue to sustain itself with all the holes etched into it.

"You ever kissed someone on the bridge Stan?" Richie asked, he stood under the street light as he shot Stan a winning smile.

"No," Stan admitted, sure he'd had his fair share of dates and he'd kissed a few of them, but he'd never taken a date there.  

"You wanna?" Richie asked, there was a glint his eye as he looked down at Stan and the smirk on his mouth was familiarly mischievous.

Stan's heart jumped in his chest and began to flutter hard, like a bird caged in his ribs. He'd been thinking about kissing Richie more often than he really wanted, which wasn't at all, it was a fantasy that had started to form itself behind his eyelids and Stan found it waiting for him whenever he tried to sleep. He wasn't about to take Richie up on his offer though, he knew too well that Richie was just joking. Everything was always a joke to Richie.

"Shut up Richie," Stan muttered and shoved his hands into his pockets, he felt as though he was being made fun of even though he knew he wasn't. This was just Richie's nature, but still Stan turned and began on home.

"G'night Stan," Richie called, smiling wide as he waved Stan off before turning toward his own way home.

Stan lifted a hand into the air without looking back, he was irritated with himself. He'd been trying to lift Richie's spirits but had focused more on himself, focused on his infatuation while Richie was going through his own turmoil. Sure Richie always seemed to cheer himself up, but Stan still felt bad about being selfishly lost in his own thoughts. He knew he'd have to quash this crush for the sake of their friendship.


	7. Chapter 7

Richie was happy to be on the road, finally moving toward something instead of feeling left behind. Waiting around in Derry after everyone else had left made him feel pathetic, made him feel strangely lonely even when he wasn't alone, but the feeling of moving toward something left him feeling exhilarated. He leaned his head out the window, felt the wind flow through his hair, he got the urge to stick his tongue out like a dog but Stan's voice broke through his excitement before he could do so.

"You're gonna lose your glasses like that," Stan said lowly, it was the usual flat tone that Stan used when dealing with Richie's antics. "Close the window, you're making it cold," he added, jostling his shoulders around as he sent a sharp look over at Richie before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Fine, I'll close the window Stanley," Richie sighed and rolled the window up, the motion was far from smooth and the pane of glass came up in shuddering movements. Richie could just see the line of Stan's mouth growing firmer until the window was finally shut.

Richie leaned back in his seat and tapped a rhythm at against his leg. His fingers itched to fiddle with the radio, but he thought better of it after the argument they'd had during in the first fifteen minutes of the drive, as usual. Stan had allowed him to pick a radio station, but on the condition that he wasn't allowed to change it until they crossed state lines. Instead, Richie pulled out his carton of cigarettes and toyed with the box and the sticks inside.

"Why do you smoke so much?" Stan asked, eyeing Richie's lap for a moment.

"Nerves I guess, I dunno it helps stop my hands from shaking," Richie shrugged, he jammed the box back into his pocket, he didn't want to have yet another lecture on the damage he was doing to his health.

"How about doing something else with your hands," Stan said, he knew he'd made a mistake the second the words were out of his mouth, he cringed and clutched the steering wheel harder.

"I don't think you'd like that much Stanley," Richie smirked, toying with Stan would take his mind off of the extra energy he had.

"You know what I mean Trashmouth," Stan groaned and Richie laughed, the taller  held his chest and doubled over in his seat.

"Like what?" Richie asked, still laughing somewhat.

"What about your Gameboy?" Stan asked, brows furrowed as he stared forward and adjusted his hold on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, broke that two months ago," Richie confessed with a disarming smile as he looked over at Stan.

"How?" Stan asked, he had one brows arched as he flicked his eyes toward Richie and then back at the road.

"Forgot it was in my pocket whilst I was climbing a tree," Richie said, his smile turned sheepish and his fingers reached around to scratch at the back of his neck.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Stan said and after that they fell silent again.

Richie had grown a habit, a habit that would probably get him into trouble at one point or another, but at that moment Stan was too occupied with the road to notice that Richie was staring at him. Staring at Stan was better than fidgeting and getting on Stan's nerves. It wasn't so bright that day, but the dull tones cast Stan's face in soft light and caressed his features in the same way that Richie ached to. Richie trailed his eyes over the vein that was visible beneath Stan's right eye, a few loose curls were swept over his brow and Richie fingers itched to brush them aside. The jut of Stan's jaw was sharp and Riche yearned to run his lips across it, pressed his face flush against the curve of Stan's neck and taste the other's pulse. Richie turned his head forward so fast his glasses nearly fell off of his face.

He knew that since his grand realisation, his imagination had began to run wild with thoughts of Stan. Some nights of that summer, he'd laid awake in his bed and brought Stan's form to the forefront of his mind, fantasised about mapping out every millimetre of Stan's skin with his fingertips. A kind of mental cartography that Richie was pathetically eager to partake in but knew he never would, never could.

Sat rigid in his seat, Richie thought about trying to train himself to keep his eyes to himself. He didn't know how well that was going to go, he wasn't exactly known for his impulse control and soon enough he found his eyes wandering toward Stan's side of the car. Desire was something that Richie was well acquainted with, he'd lost virginity at sixteen, was a smoker, had and probably would again dabble with drugs. This was something stronger than all of those, this desire had Richie feeling as though he were a puppet, possessed by his seemingly ever growing longing for Stan.

Conversation followed like it usually did between them, coming and going in spluttered spurts until neither of them could come up with something to talk about. After much begging and promising to be the pack mule, going up and down the stairs of their dorm once they finally got to college, Stan had allowed Richie to play his own cassettes. They wield away the last two hours with Richie singing wildly off key to Stan, somehow pouring his heart out through song to the other, but Stan would never know.

 

* * *

 

Stan looked at Richie, piled with bags and two boxes in his arms, and had thoughts of Buckaroo. He stifled a laugh against the back of his hand as he unpacked their things. He'd organised everything as Richie came and went with their things, this was the final journey. Richie had a fine sheen of sweat across his brow and he was panting as he leant against the doorway. Stan tore his eyes from the other and turned back to his work. He was happy to split the labour this way, Richie wasn't stronger than him, but his legs were longer and that meant that Richie could take two steps at a time.

He'd already decided who would have which bed, Stan preferred to be closer to the door and Richie hadn't seemed to care much one way or the other. The smallness of the room made Stan's stomach churn, but if Richie would actually listen to him then he was sure they could figure something out, Richie had always listened to his rules before. If there was one thing they hadn't had an all out argument about it was Stan's discomforts and eccentricities.

Stan smiled as he watched Richie drop onto his designated bed, on the right hand side of the room, face pressed into the sheets and those horn-rimmed glasses dug into the side of his face.

"You're really enjoying yourself, eh Stanny?" Richie asked, smiling lopsidedly as he stared up and over at Stan across the room.

"Oh yeah Richie, organising your underwear really gets me going," Stan said as he pushed the chest of draws closed, "how do you get a hole in nearly every single one of your boxers?" He asked as he turned around, elbows lent against the top of the dresser.

"They get regular use," Richie said, smirking as he wriggled his eyebrows. He turned over onto his back and leant up against the headboard.

"I wear mine just as much as you wear yours," Stan said with furrowed brows as he stared over at Richie, maybe Richie wore his underwear for long than Stan, maybe Richie was the kind of guy that turned their underwear inside-out to get extra use out of it Stan wasn't sure. The thought of it made Stan shiver, if any of that really was true then Stan would have to make him unlearn those behaviours, he wasn't going to be a part of whatever kind of crotch rot Richie would eventually pick up like that.

"Yeah but you don't take them off as much," Richie sniggered, mouth cracked wide open.

Stan rolled his eyes and walked over to the boxes in the middle of the room. He pulled out his books and set them down on his desk, he arranged and rearranged them before he slid them to the side against the back of the desk and that would be their new home. He heard movement behind him and turned to find Richie climbing off of his bed. They both moved toward the middle of the room at the same time, Stan watched Richie's rough and very faintly stained fingers wrap around the handle of his duffle bag.

"Don't worry Stanley, I'm cutting down and I definitely won't be smoking in here," Richie said with a soft smile.

Stan snapped his eyes up to Richie and felt something he didn't want to think about swirled in his chest at the thought that Richie would do something like that for him, but they were best friends and it shouldn't have surprised Stan to find that Richie had done something for him. He wanted to smack himself for the stupidity of the thought. Richie had probably only said that because he'd caught Stan staring at his hands anyways, he thought.

"I don't think you're even aloud to smoke in the dorm rooms," Stan replied, he felt even more stupid for saying something so obvious and useless when he could have been thanking Richie.

"Yeah, but that's not going to stop anybody," Richie said before he took the duffle bag over to the wardrobe on his side of the room. "You know, you didn't have to touch my underwear and socks if you didn't want to, right?" He said as he put a tie-dye button up on a hanger.

"I'm not that bothered by your worn out underwear, at least it's clean," Stan said, he took his suitcase over to his own dresser and dropped down beside it.

Silence fell between them as they unpacked, every now and then Stan caught himself staring over at Richie. When Richie bent down to stuff his folded jeans into the bottom draw, Stan could see the waistband of Richie's boxers peaking out of his faded black jeans and there was a thin strip of pale skin that was exposed between Richie's shirt and pants. Stan thought about sliding his hand up from the small of Richie's back under the other's shirt and feeling the hills and valleys of Richie's spine. He knew that Richie's skin would be warm beneath his touch, Richie always ran warm. The sound of the draw closing snapped Stan out of his reverie and he turned back to his own clothes with his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest, he went back to folding his clothes and placing them gently into the drawer.

Once he was done with his clothes, Stan stared at the open box to the right of him, he had lined each of his boxes with bubble wrap and he knew that by the end of the day it would be in Richie's grasp and he wouldn't hear the end of it until late into the night. Stan couldn't really process the thought though, not with guilt coursing thickly through his veins. Guilt and shame. They swirled through him and made him feel lower than low, maybe he deserved the constant popping he'd surely hear later that night. Stan had to admit that it wasn't really right to be thinking about your best friend like he was, especially while being as sneaky as he was.

"You short-circuited or something there Stan?" Richie called from across the room, the sound rankled Stan's nerves as though he'd been caught out but his hands were clean.

Stan stared down at his bird watching gear and remember the summer, remember the way Richie's body felt as the other leant heavily against him, remembered how Richie's touch had been almost searing in the summer heat, remembered catching the other looking at him. He swallowed thickly and tried to shake the thoughts from his head.

"Just thinking about where to put my bird watching stuff," Stan said, working his mouth as though he were more of a machine than a man.

"Maybe not in plain sight, you gotta admit dude it's not exactly cool," Richie offered.

Stan stood and took the box with him over to his bedside table, he made eye contact with Richie then and found the other leant against the drawer with his arms crossed, Stan pulled out the contents of the box and set them down on the corner table in defiance. Richie laughed, his arms moved down to curl around his stomach as he bent down to pull more things from his bag. Stan watched as Richie opened the middle draw, dumped a whole load of things in there and closed the draw again.

"Since when did I ever care about being cool?" Stan said with his brows raised, he continued to stare as Richie approached him.

"Please Stan, don't ever change," Richie said with his hand placed upon Stan's shoulder, smiling that wolfish grin that tore Stan's inside to shreds.


	8. Chapter 8

Richie knew he was staring, knew he was being so wholly obvious to anyone that bothered to spare him a glance, but Richie didn't care, watching Stan go off across campus with the way his hair was catching the light and the way the pastel blue shirt he'd been wearing really complimented his skin tone was more than worth the toll. As long as Stan didn't catch him, Richie supposed there was no real harm in idly watching.

"You're the dumbest person I've ever met," Eddie spoke up beside Richie, latte held slightly above the table as he stared over at Richie.

"That just isn't true," Richie returned, "and you know it Spaghetti-o," he added and reached over to ruffle Eddie's hair and Eddie struggled to bat him away.

"No, not like in an academic sense you dingus, I mean like you're being denser than Big Bill," Eddie said as he roughly pushed Richie's arm away, jostling Richie and his frappe.

"Wait what?" Richie asked, brows raised as he stared over at Eddie, his frappe melting in his clammy grasp.

"I'm not going to lay it out for you, but I really am enjoying the show," Eddie said with a wide smirk before he brought his latte to his mouth. The chairs outside the cafe were hard and Eddie still wasn't thrilled with the state of the tabletop, it was clear it hadn't been cleaned in a while, but the latte made it all worthwhile.

The cafe got a fair bit quieter just before lunch, around eleven am, and Eddie had already started become a regular there. Richie could just tell that Eddie was going to be one of those caffeine addicts, despite the way Eddie had lectured him on the dangers of caffeine abuse when they'd first entered the cafe not more than five weeks prior.

"What show?" Richie asked, brows furrowed as he leaned over the table, elbows pressed against the tabletop.

"God you're insufferable," Eddie groaned and ran a hand down the front of his face.

"And yet you suffer me constantly," Richie returned, smiling at the other, "you're so cute Eds," he added and pinched Eddie's cheek.

"If you keep bugging me I won't help you," Eddie snapped as he slapped Richie's hand away.

"You just said you weren't going to help me, ya see I've caught ya out there Eddie mi-lad," Richie said in an Irish accent, it was one of the only decent accents Richie had, it was mostly because of a cop back in Derry that he'd had plenty a run in with though.

"I'm just saying that you're both oblivious and so damn obvious at the same time, it would be painful to watch if I didn't enjoy your pain," Eddie said and drained his latte, he set the cardboard cup down a little too hard and the bottom crumpled slightly.

Richie knew he was being obvious and he certainly had the capacity to be wholly oblivious, he'd been trying so hard to restrain himself, to keep a lid on the stupid irritating crush but he could only do so much. Most of his energy was spent on making sure that Stan didn't notice, it might have been obvious to everyone else, but as long as Stan didn't find out that was all Richie really cared about.

"You're so cruel Eds," Richie pouted, he looked over at Eddie with puppy dog eyes as he leaned over the table further, to the point where the table pressed hard into his stomach.

"Stop calling me that," Eddie yelled, he pressed the heel of his palm against Richie's forehead and tried to push him away.

"You know that's never going to happen," Richie smiled, his glasses began to slide down on his nose as Eddie continued to push him away from the table. He sat up suddenly and Eddie slid forward, Richie only continued to smile back at him.

"I can dream," Eddie sighed and slumped back down in his seat.

"And that's all it will ever be," Richie said as though it were a promise.

"I'm definitely not helping you now," Eddie grumbled and looked out over at the green across campus, he dropped his right ankle atop his left knee and Richie turned his eyes away from the way Eddie's short-shorts rose up his thigh.

"If you say so boss," Richie said, he sipped on what was left of his frappe and stared out the same way as Eddie, he remembered the shadow of Stan retreating across the way.

Richie didn't particularly enjoy it when Eddie was being cryptic and smug, but he didn't want to give Eddie the satisfaction of asking him exactly what he'd need the other's help with. He was pretty sure he didn't need any help though, he might have been torturing himself by allowing his eyes to linger on Stan's form whenever the other couldn't see him, he might have caught himself fantasising about pressing his lips to Stan's during one of his lectures, but he knew he wasn't a complete lost cause. He would get over it, he was sure, it'd just take a little longer than usual since he saw Stan every single day. At least that was what Richie told himself.

 

* * *

 

_Fingers, rough and calloused fingers, slid into his hair and fingernails scraped against his scalp. Stan arched his back and opened his mouth to allow the hot wetness of someone else's tongue to slip in. He felt the frame of someone's glasses press against the side of his face and Stan instantly knew it was Richie against him, that thought alone had him rocking his body up into Richie's. He shivered as Richie's tongue ran over his teeth and the other's breath swept into his mouth, he sighed into Richie._

_Stan brought his arms up and encircled them around Richie's back, the other's skin was like fire and Stan welcomed the searing sensation as he held Richie to him. The kiss between them grew even less sweet and turned more incessant as they continued meet each other with Richie leaning down and Stan reaching up, their mouths clashed together and desire turned to hunger between their lips._

_Richie's hands moved from Stan's hair and slid down his sides, racking his body with shivers, Stan groaned into their needy kiss. He could feel that Richie was hard between them, could feel him against the inside of his thigh, and he knew that Richie could feel his erection too, he rocked up into the other and . . ._

and Stan's alarm clock began chime.

His eyes flew upon and he found himself staring up at the ceiling breathing heavily, his dick was still achingly hard between his legs. The shame and horror was slow as it crawled over him, his heart's pounding seemed to only grow faster as reality began to dawn on him. The reality that he'd just had a dirty dream about his best friend, who was sleeping not six feet from him.

"Stan, I swear to-" Richie's groggy voice began from across the room, but the sound of it brought Stan's consciousness hurtling back into his body and he was quick to cut Richie off.

"Alright it's off, sleeping beauty gets to rest for another millennia," Stan said as he shut the alarm clock off. He sat up, put his feet down on the ground as he stared over at Richie and waited for the other to drift back off to sleep.

Really, it wouldn't have mattered whether Richie was awake or not, without his glasses Richie was practically blind at this distance and the whole panic, shame and fear had turned him flaccid anyways. Still Stan just really didn't want Richie to look at him. Once the sound of Richie's soft snores began to fill the room, Stan finally rose from his bed and began his morning routine with a marked amount of rigidity. He straightened out his bed sheets so hard, to the point where they were so taught that they might spring up given the wrong kind of pressure. He then grabbed a change of clothes, his shower things and washed himself raw.

This was bad, Stan thought, things weren't getting better or easer as he had more exposure to Richie, in fact it was quite the opposite. The more he saw Richie the more the embers of his damn infatuation burned in his chest. Stan had thought that during their stay together he would be privy to Richie's bad habits and the crush would snuff itself out, but he'd only grown more fond of the other. He'd thought that watching Richie sniff the crotch of his boxers before turning them inside-out and putting them on would make his stomach churn, but instead it'd just made him laugh. He'd begun to find a lot of things funny that he'd usually find disgusting and he supposed he still would if it weren't Richie doing them, for instance: eating food off the floor, leaving a can of Pepsi open for three days and eventually drinking it and missing one shower because he woke up too late after a night of partying.

There were other things though, things that weren't actually disgusting, things that were forcing fondness through Stan's veins like treacle. Things like the way Richie ran his fingers through his hair as he woke up in the morning, the way his unfocused eyes blinked as he looked around the room unseeingly, the way Richie just seemed throw on whatever was closest and still managing to look pretty good in Stan's opinion, the way he'd tiredly slide his fingers up and under his glasses just to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Things had gone overboard, there was an invisible line between things that were okay, like finding the way Richie pouted slightly as he slapped his hand around the bedside table to find his glasses cute, and things that weren't okay, for instance having dirty dreams about Richie.

Stan shut the water off effectively trying to shut off his train of thought, something had to give and Stan figured that he should probably see a little less of Richie to save his sanity and their friendship.


	9. Chapter 9

Richie was drunk, of that he was certain, completely off his face drunk, but it didn't matter since no one was stopping him. Stan was a lot of his impulse control and Richie hadn't seen a whole lot of Stan over the last two week. At first he figured it was just coincidence, Stan was an early bird and Richie really was not, Stan had morning classes and Richie had afternoon classes. After the first five days though, he'd figured that something was up, Saturday afternoons had been their movie night for the last two months and some change. Things like that just weren't the same with only Eddie and him, Eddie didn't always come anyways. He got the distinct feeling that Stan was avoiding him.

He figured that he'd probably done something wrong, something he hadn't thought was harmful at the time but had obviously offended Stan. He racked his brain and he couldn't find anything, which wasn't so surprising, but it wasn't like he could ask Stan anyways. Richie had laid on his bed in their empty room, stared up at the ceiling as he thought about all of the possible things he could have done or said. Eventually, after he hadn't come up with a damn thing, Richie had cleaned his side of the room to the point where his body ached and his brain was bored raw. At that point he had decided that all of this was useless, no amount of cleaning he did would be good enough for Stan, he probably hadn't even done it right. He put on his jacket with a huff and left the dorm for a house party someone he could barely remember the name of, either Jimmy or Joey, had invited him to.

Richie was curled up against the wall outside the house, hoping that no one would bother him as he smoked his irritation away. The one thought that Richie had been doing his best to ignore was circling his mind. What if Stan had found out about his stupid crush, Richie would rather die and he supposed he was killing himself slowly with the amount the cigarettes he'd burned through already that night.

"Wow, you look fucked up," Eddie said, he was stood just slightly beside Richie with his hands rested on his hips as he looked down at the other judgementally.

"Thanks Eds," Richie said with a dopey smile as he slid his eyes up to the other.

"What happened?" Eddie asked, he dropped down near Richie, trying to keep his distance from the curling cloud of smoke.

"Nothing really," Richie shrugged and took another drag on his cigarette.

"Yeah because you get flat out drunk and smoke your throat raw for no reason on the regular," Eddie muttered, he smacked the cigarette out of Richie's mouth and jumped up to stamp it out.

"Who taught you to talk so cool?" Richie asked, still smiling at Eddie.

"Come on," Eddie said, he held his hand out for Richie.

Richie stared at the proffered hand for a couple moments too long before he took it, he almost bowled Eddie off of his feet as he pulled himself up and Eddie staggered forward. He wobbled on his feet and his head spun so awfully, before he was able to fully stand up straight he was doubling over to puke into the grass at the front of the house. Eddie was quick to pluck Richie’s glasses from his face before they dropped into the mess he'd made on the floor. It burnt his throat and he spat out the aftertaste, he took a moment to breathe with his palms rested on his knees.

"Someone's definitely going to step in that," Eddie noted with a strong look of distaste as he handed Richie's glasses back.

"Well, it's their fault for not keeping the grass short," Richie murmured as he slowly stood straight again and slid his glasses back up his nose.

They walked side by side back to Richie's room, he declined Eddie's offer of physical support and decided it was better to stagger around as Eddie kept a watchful eye on him. His vision swam and it was nearly impossible to see where he was going with the way his glasses were fogged up, but he didn't really care, he didn't want to be more of a bother to anyone than he already was.

When they made into Richie's building, Eddie held a steady hand to the small of Richie's back as they went up the flights of stairs, he figured it wouldn't make much difference if he did trip though. He was much bigger than Eddie and if he fell backward he'd surely be taking Eddie with him, still he appreciated the thought all the same.

Inside his dorm room, Eddie helped Richie out of his jacket and combat boots. Richie just sat there and watched him, in that moment he felt so woefully pathetic that he hoped the floor would just open and he'd disappear to never bother anyone ever again.

"You know, you're lucky to have me around," Eddie said as he set Richie's glasses down on the bedside table.

"Yeah Eds, I know," Richie sighed and bid Eddie good night. He watched the light dim and diminish as he was left alone in the darkness with his thoughts.

Richie laid there on his bed staring up at the ceiling he couldn’t really see thinking about Stan for the second time that night and he jumped up from his bed in frustration for the second that night too. He walked down the corridor of their dorm with a strange sense of purpose. He'd already memorized Beverly's number and he punched it into the communal phone with surprising ease considering his state of inebriation. 

Ben and Beverly were renting an apparently shitty apartment above a convince store, which Beverly had already fallen head over heels with, so he wouldn't have to worry too much about calling them so late at night. Not that anything would have stopped him from calling Beverly that night.

He lent against the wall with the receiver held up to his ear and stared down the corridor as he listened to the heavy, droning tone of the ringer on the other end. It did nothing for his growing headache, but that really didn’t matter, he needed to get this off his chest and Beverly was the only one he was willing to spill it to. The ringing cut off and Richie’s attention zeroed back in on the telephone, not that staring at it would affect the conversation he was about to have but he always felt more like he was having a real conversation if he did, in a strange sort of way.

“Hello?” Beverly’s soft and sleepy tone broke over the line.

“Hey Bev, did I wake ya?” Richie asked, he tried to keep his voice low, both for Beverly’s benefit and his own.

“Nah Richie, I’m just tired, we’ve got three hours on you guys anyways,” Beverly assured, “what’s up?” She asked in a cheery tone and Richie could just hear her soft smile.

“I’m drunk,” Richie said uselessly, he rested his forehead against the wall, hoping that the coolness would soothe his pounding head.

“And you need to call me to tell me that?” Beverly asked with a small chuckle.

“No, but the reason why I got drunk on a Thursday is,” Richie said, he gave a short sigh before continuing, “I think I really fucked up Bev, this fucking crush has just been getting worse and worse and I think Stan might have found out or I did something because he’s been ghosting me for nearly three weeks,” he said in a rush, the words tumbled out of his mouth and stumbled into each other. “He’s not even in the dorm, I think he’s been staying at the library all night or something, he could be staying at Eddie’s or lying in a ditch for all I know,” he finished, noticing how loud he’d gotten, he let himself breathe and was thankful that Beverly didn’t even try to interrupt him.

“Hmm, did you do anything that might have pissed him off enough to have him react like this?” Beverly asked, she easily cut through to the one part of the situation that had been sending Richie around the bend for days on end.

“I don’t think so?” Richie said, he hated the pathetic sound of the upward inflection and the wavering in the essence of the statement, it was frustrating him not to know.

“Richie, I know that sometimes you’re not really aware of what’s coming out of your mouth or whatever, but I think you’d have remembered doing something that made Stan not want to see you for three weeks, you two are best friends,” Beverly said, and the logic weighed down on Richie like a ton of bricks.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Richie said, he knew it was true but there was still doubt and doubt often anchored Richie to the spot.

“Richie, whatever is going on with Stan is something only Stan knows, so you’re better off talking to him about it than getting drunk over something that might be nothing to do with you,” Beverly said, her tone had become something sterner but still caring.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go to sleep and find him when my head doesn’t feel like Michael Angelo is chiselling away at it,” Richie said and he felt better for saying it, as though having said the words made him more likely to actually approach and confront Stan.

“Atta boy Richie,” Beverly giggled and the sound made Richie feel even better, “I’ve gotta love you and leave you, bye bye honey,” she said, her voice soft and flighty.

“See ya sweet thing,” Richie said in an approximation of a southern accent, which only made Beverly laugh more, before hanging up with a smile on his face. He went back to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a massive mistake in this chapter, but it's fixed now, sorry for that folks.

Stan’s head snapped up from his book at the sound of the door opening, Richie wasn’t supposed to be back until the late afternoon, but there Richie was in the doorway proving Stan wrong. He flicked his eyes over to the digital clock on his bedside table, Richie was definitely supposed to be in class, but maybe he wasn’t feeling well or the class had been cancelled or something more reasonable but less feasible than Richie skipping class was. Looking at the other’s face made Stan realise how much he’d missed Richie in the time that he’d been dodging him, the thought instantly made him feel sick, but he figured it was better than being disgusted with himself.

“Hey Stan,” Richie said, he smiled sheepishly as he closed the door behind him and gave Stan a strange little wave, which only further set Stan on edge somehow.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?” Stan asked, his brows were furrowed as he stared over at Richie.

“Skipping one class won’t kill me Stan,” Richie sighed and he stepped further into the room.

“I guess so,” Stan drew out, he ran his thumbs over the soft and aging pages of the book now resting against the desk as he watched Richie move.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Richie said, he slowly stepped over to the desk where Stan was sat and lent against the cheap wood.

“Is it worth skipping class for?” Stan asked, he arched a brow as he looked up at Richie and frowned as Richie sat on the edge of the desk.

“I haven’t seen you in like what, four days? And even then we haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other for nearly a month, did I do something Stan because I’m getting the feeling that you’re avoiding me,” Richie said, words a little jumbled, he brought his hand up to bite his nails and Stan was too frozen to stop him.

Stan’s heart leapt into his throat, for a moment he could do nothing more than stare back at Richie. He hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t thought about the possibility that Richie would think that he was avoiding him. Not that he wasn’t avoiding Richie, he had only meant to dodge Richie for a few days, but every time he’d tried to talk to Richie the dream came to his mind and shame would wash over him anew. He was a coward and he knew it, but he hadn’t known how short sighted he’d been, how selfish he’d been.

“I-,” Stan began, stopped, swallowed and started again. “You haven’t done anything Richie,” He said, he was too scared to say sorry, too scared to face his own failure.

“Really?” Richie asked, he looked down at Stan hopefully, magnified eyes silently imploring him. 

“You think I wouldn’t tell you?” Stan asked, he felt a little affronted by the statement but he knew it said more about Richie’s personal anxieties than anything he’d done. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve just-“ Stan sighed and stared down at the book, “I’m just trying to adjust,” was as far as he could comfortably get to the truth.

“Oh Stanley,” Richie grossed, he reached out and ruffled Stan’s hair, “so are we on for tonight then?” He asked and rose from the desk to crowd Stan’s space.

“Tonight?” Stan asked, brows furrowed as he let Richie shake him by the shoulders.

“Stan, it’s Saturday, movie night?” Richie exclaimed as he turned Stan’s chair so they were facing each other from the way Richie was bent over.

“Oh, right,” Stan said, he’d completely forgotten. In the time he’d spent avoiding Richie, the only thing he had the room to think about was the damn crush he was trying to quash and his studies. He hadn’t thought about all the things they usually did together, again he felt guilty about that, the impotency of it all was frustrating Stan. At that point though, Stan figured he should have been used to frustration, especially at himself, by now.

Stan had hid away in the library, he was both thankful for and despised the way he so easily found himself lost in the books for hours. It might have said something good about his studying skills, but that didn’t dampen the feeling of cowardice that solidified in his gut, shame, guilt and frustration had become a familiar cocktail to Stan and he really hated the taste.

That morning, after his dream about Richie, he’d been scared. He hadn’t ever had a dirty dream before, not about a woman or anyone, and the intensity of the imagined situation had shocked Stan to his core. Stan was interested in sex but he didn’t think of himself as overtly sexual, he still hadn’t lost his virginity, not that he cared about that, and he wasn’t overly interested in sex anyways. He hadn’t thought that he viewed Richie in that light at all, but his own brain had proved him wrong. Everything about it had shaken Stan up to the point that he’d ran, like he always did when things got too hard.

“Well, you down for it or not Stanley?” Richie asked, the sound of his voice brought Stan back from his thoughts.

“What?” Stan blinked back at Richie’s expectant face.

“Are you away with the fairies darling?” Richie asked in a piffy English accent, his hand heavy on Stan’s shoulder, “movie night, Stanley, you in?”

Richie’s eyes were alight again, hopeful and open, Stan cold have read Richie like a book if he’d wanted to. He swallowed, stamped down the feelings of shame, guilt and frustration like empty cardboard boxes. He realised that his stupid feelings didn’t matter or at least not as much as his friendship with Richie did.

“Sure, of course,” Stan replied, he smiled and hoped that it didn’t look too forced.

 

* * *

 

Stan had missed this, without really knowing it, the feeling had just crashed down upon him as he sat beside Richie in the darkness as a movie he’d paid too much to see and didn’t really care about at all played on the screen before them. He tried to focus on the movie, but it couldn’t hold his attention and his mind kept wandering to Richie. He was strangely hyper aware of the boy besides him, every single movement Richie made snapped Stan’s attention from the screen. The small distance between them was making Stan itch with a need to reach over and touch, of course like always he didn’t but the thought remained, it pestered him like a fly circling the room for the duration of the slightly less than average movie.

Thankfully the movie wasn’t especially long and soon they were out in the night. The winter chill had set in and Stan supposed that it wouldn’t be long before they were back in Derry for winter break, he was looking forward to seeing everyone again. Stan kept up with the rest of the losers via letter, he much preferred the written word over speaking to people on the telephone, he couldn’t wait see them.

“You gonna tell me what’s been bothering you?” Richie asked, he words puffed out and swirled in the air before him.

“Huh?” Stan breathed, still a little caught in his thoughts.

“Why you’ve been a ghost recently,” Richie said, he raised his brows expectantly as pressed his face further into his coat, sinking further into the fabric.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stan murmured, he knew he owed Richie more than that but he couldn’t think of something to say, he didn’t want to outright lie to Richie either. Saying nothing wasn’t a lie, avoidance wasn’t the best either but Stan thought it was better than lying.

“If you say so Stan the man,” Richie said and bumped their shoulders together as they continued down the street.

Their footsteps echoed through the crowded night, like a cacophony of souls moving through the world. Richie filled him in on everything he and Eddie had gotten up to while Stan had gone ‘AWOL’. As Richie spoke, Stan thought about how idiotic and hurtful his actions had been, he’d been a jerk and Richie didn’t even know it.

“I’m not going to ‘ghost’ you again, I promise,” Stan said, it might have been more for his own piece of mind, to subdue the vicious guilt that was bubbling inside him, but he was aching to make Richie happy. He wanted Richie to know that he’d be there for him, like he always had been before he’d started to avoid the other. Stan had told himself that he wouldn’t let his frivolous romantic feelings get between Richie and his friendship, he’d be damned if he did.

“If something spooks you again, I’m always here,” Richie said, he reached out and ruffled Stan’s hair like usual and things seemed to be going back to normal so fast it was almost as if nothing had happened.  

 

* * *

 

 

Eddie’s room was chaotic but reasonably clean, cleaner than Richie’s would have been without Stan’s rigorous rules and weekly cleaning routine. He was laid out on Eddie’s bed with his face at the end of it, the sheets were soft and Richie pressed his face into them as he read the textbook in his hands. Eddie was sat up against the headboard with his own books spread out in his lap, pen caught between his teeth as his eyes ran over the words before him.

“Is the trouble in paradise over?” Eddie asked, frowning at Richie’s feet pressed against the headboard beside him.

“Stan said he’s fine now,” Richie said without looking back at Eddie, but it was hard to concentrate on the text before him with Eddie’s eyes on the back of his head.

“Did he tell you why he’s been avoiding you?” Eddie asked, he wouldn’t say that he was a gossip but he never missed out on anything that was happening in their friendship group.

“He wasn’t avoiding me,” Richie said, finally looking back over his shoulder, and Eddie looked back at him brows pinched, “that’s what he said,” he added as Eddie continued to look at him with disbelief. “What? He said it wasn’t anything I’d done and I believe him, what’s up with you?”

Eddie looked like he was about to say something, but changed his mind before speaking.

“I just find it hard to believe that you didn’t do anything,” Eddie said, smirking and Richie rolled over to look at him properly.

“Did he say something to you?” Richie asked, he leant up on his elbows and stared hard back at Eddie.

“Richie,” Eddie groaned as he rolled his eyes, “I didn’t see Stan either, he was avoiding me as much as he was avoiding you, I was just pulling your leg,” he said and reached down beside him to pull on Richie’s ankle. “Since when did you get so serious?” Eddie asked, smiling back at Richie.

“Yeah, I guess I got a little serious in Stan’s absence,” Richie chuckled, fingers toying with the sheets beneath him.

“You better never let him go then because serious Richie sucks,” Eddie joked and turned his eyes back to the textbook loosely held in his hands.

“Don’t I know it,” Richie scoffed, he leant his back against his shoulders and stared up at the ceiling, it was pretty much the same as his own, ceilings were mostly the same and Richie wondered why he’d even thought about it at all.

“I’m bored of studying,” Eddie announced as he set his books down haphazardly on the bedside table.

“Oh Eds baby you know how to sweet talk a lady,” Richie said in an approximation of a Southern Belle accent, he threw his books to the floor and dragged Eddie off of the bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Richie loved Christmas, everything about it made him feel warm inside. His mother had made mulled cider and the hot cloying smell of it permeated throughout the house, he could even smell it from his bedroom. The snow was thin on the ground, like a light sprinkling of flour upon a cake, it was a pretty decoration that Richie was awed by every single year.

He sat on the window ledge, head against the frame as he smoked, Beverly sat on his bed watching him. Goose flesh ran under his sweater at the feeling of the biting winter air, that along with the sharp and cloying taste of nicotine made Richie feel at home again.

“So…how’s the crush going?” Beverly asked with gentle smile on her face, she was perched on the edge of his bed and watched Richie with her chin held in the palm of her hand.

“Terrible, but I’ll deal with it,” Richie said, he smiled sharply at her and flicked ash out of the window.

“I’m not going to push you Richie, but I don’t think that this is good for you,” she said, treading lightly, she watched the way Richie’s jaw tightened as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette.

“What isn’t good for me?” He asked, brows drawn together, he stared back at her.

“Holding it all inside and letting these feelings fester, I think you should talk to him,” Beverly said with a soft sigh, she tapped her chin with her fingertips and tired not to think about the taste of the cigarette smoke that lingered in the room despite the bitter breeze.

“And say what exactly? Hey Stan, I know we’ve got to live together for another six months or so, but I’m head over fucking heels for you, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you? He’s going to run all the fucking way to Mexico,” Richie scoffed, speaking with the cigarette still caught between his lips, he took a drag as he turned away from her and looked back out across the empty street.

“Not that exactly,” Beverly said, her smile was warm even though Richie couldn’t see it, “but letting him know might alleviate some of the stress you’re going through,” she continued, eyeing the cigarette caught between Richie’s fingers.

Richie turned back and watched her for a moment before he snuffed the cigarette out in the ashtray that was sat on the windowsill beside him.

“I thought you were cutting down?” Beverly asked, her smile turned a little curt as she brought her round wide eyes up to Richie’s own.

“That was my first one today,” Richie said, he stayed there at the window, he liked the feeling of the breeze against the back of his neck.

“So you intend to have more?” Beverly said almost smirking at him, brows raised.

“You’re a cruel woman Beverly Marsh, first you want me to spill my guts at Stan’s feet and then you’re judging me for my vices,” Richie said melodramatically, flopped against the window frame as though he were wounded.

“You’re only saying that because you know I’m right,” Beverly said, she kept a steady eye on Richie as he stood and made his way over to the bed and sat beside her.

“Oh, Miss Marsh, I know you’re always right,” Richie sighed and bumped their shoulders together, he could smell her faint perfume and found the scent comforting. He wrapped his arms around her then and held her close, at first Beverly was a little startled but she leaned into his embrace after a moment.

“You don’t have to tell him right now, but I don’t know if this crush of yours is really going to go away, I know you don’t want anything to change but something will change eventually,” Beverly said, she patted his shoulder.

“I know,” Richie breathed, he pressed his face into her fire red hair, it was soft against his cheek.

Things had already changed, despite how Richie had tried keep things between him and Stan as static as possible, he could already feel the change between them. Richie blamed himself even though he knew better, he knew that college was stressful, that the change of being away from home, being away from their other friends was something they’d both had to adjust to. Still, even if he did know better, Richie blamed himself for every change between them.

He dropped himself down on the mattress and took Beverly with him, she giggled against him and ran her hand over his head, fingers sliding through his hair. Richie loosened his hold on her and stared at her from the small distance between them. He thought about Beverly, her and Ben, their relationship had blossomed as easily, as organically, as flowers bloomed. Richie was a little jealous of the ease of which they’d come together.

“You have it so easy Beverly,” Richie sighed, the side of his head was pressed against the mattress and his glasses were digging into his temple and the side of his nose, but he was used to it.

“I know, Ben was so obvious and a little bold, even when we were twelve,” Beverly’s smile took on an endearing quality as she thought of Ben, “you know he wrote me a poem back then?” She said, staring back at Richie with such warmth in her eyes.

“That’s our Haystack, ever the classical romanticist,” Richie said, he was as jealous as he was happy for the both of them.

“You and Stan are way too awkward for that,” Beverly giggled, she held her hand daintily over her mouth but Richie could still see her teeth through the gaps between her fingers.

“Oh come on, Ben’s awkward and you’ve definitely seen me be smooth,” He replied, smirking as he jabbed her side with his elbow.

“Getting into someone’s pants and telling someone that you have feelings for them are two very different things,” Beverly returned smugly and she jabbed Richie right back.

“I hate you,” Richie hissed in mock rage.

“Something will change Richie, whether you’re ready for it or not, it’s better to get ahead of it,” Beverly said, she patted Richie’s cheek softly and he felt a little cowed by the affection.

After that Richie decided that he’d had enough of the almost adult and serious conversation and put the radio on, the two of them sang along to what they knew. Richie didn’t know whether or not he was brave enough to get ahead of whatever would change between them, didn’t know if he could physically get the words out of himself in front of Stan, he didn’t know how to begin the sentence without crumbling and unfolding like wet origami.

Once Ben had come over to take Beverly home and Richie was alone again, he laid out on his bed, stared at the ceiling and thought about what he might say to Stan if he could ever work up the courage to do so. First of all, timing was key, Richie couldn’t just spring this on Stan just before mid-terms or minutes before class or some other equally stupid time. He’d done that to Stan before, he’d dropped the bombshell that he’d accidentally worn a pair of Stan’s socks for an entire day just as the other was leaving for class, he’d done it because he knew Stan would have to leave and would have time to not explode at him. However, Richie knew it had been a sort of shitty thing to do, Stan had probably been bothered by it all throughout his class and wouldn’t have been able to focus properly. 

Then there were the exact words he would say, Richie was smart but that had never stopped his mouth from running away from him. Often times he found himself saying something when he meant something else, he didn’t want to misunderstood then, it would be the worst possible time for him to not make himself clear. On top of all that, there was the high likelihood that he would change his mind at the last second and say something else, he would take the cowards way out as he’d done so many times before.

Richie swallowed thickly, he wondered if he could actually pull this off in a way that wouldn’t ruin everything, his fingers twitched with the need to have a cigarette between them.


	12. Chapter 12

The chirping of birds was practically music to Stan’s ear and he watched as they flitted about out in the garden through the kitchen window. His hands were hidden beneath the soapy water in the sink, a dish in one hand and a sponge in the other, he stared through the window as he scrubbed the dish clean. His mother was preparing food behind him as she told him all of the goings on that had happened while he was gone. The sound of her voice was comforting, as much as the bird song was, and Stan let the homeliness of the moment wash over him.

For the first time in months he was truly relaxed, mid-terms were over, things were more normal between him and Richie and the whole gang had already gotten together at the diner just on the edge of town. It was set to be a good holiday and still Stan felt a little hollow.

This infatuation was carving his insides out, it left him longing for something he knew he’d never have. Even after his little disappearing act, Stan had taken liberties with their closeness. Richie had always been the touchy type and Stan had begun to let Richie’s touch linger, he’d even begun to reach out for the other on his own. His eyes still wandered, stuck to Richie’s form as much as possible, stealing looks of the other to keep to his own.

He hadn’t had another dirty dream about Richie, but he’d had other dreams about him, dreams in which they were together. Dreams in which they held hands, walking through streets they’ve walked so many times that Stan was sure that he could walk along them with his eyes closed, hand in hand as he often fantasised. One time it was just the two of them hanging out like always, just like any other normal day. Another time it was that moment on their last day as a group of seven in Derry, when Richie and he had been walking toward the street lights alone, this time when Richie asks if he wanted to kiss him on the kissing bridge he takes him up on the offer. He leans up into Richie’s space and their lips come together in a gentle warm touch.

Stan shook his head free of the thought and set himself back to work, scrubbing the dishes clean was somewhat cathartic, but Stan’s mind wandered as though it were a balloon and the string kept slipping through his fingers. Even when his mind was furthest from Richie, his thoughts kept finding their way to the other.

 

* * *

 

The Hanlon house was always homely and despite the farm scent that pervaded through the whole house, Stan always felt at ease when he was there. Coffee steamed on the kitchen table, the wood was a little splintered in places, but the amount of varnish on what was once a door gave him the peace of mind he needed to comfortably place his hands atop it. He pulled off his woollen gloves and wrapped his cold fingers around the hot ceramics. His reflection stared up at him from the dark liquid and Stan frowned back at it. 

“You seem troubled,” Mike noted after a few moments too long of silence on Stan’s end.

Mike was kind and perceptive, Stan knew that if he didn’t want to talk about it then that would be the end of the matter, he’d always appreciated that. Even though they’d all seen each other over Thanksgiving break, that time had been so short that it hadn’t really felt like they’d seen each other at all and Stan was so grateful to be in Mike’s presence.

“Yeah, it seems that way because I am,” Stan returned as he stared across the table at Mike, the other released a small rumbling chuckle and the sound of it dampened the anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“You gonna tell me about it or are you just gonna sit there and glare at your coffee?” Mike asked, his fingernails clinked against his mug full of hot chocolate as he watched Stan with an amused smile.

Stan heaved a sigh and rubbed his temples as he closed his eyes for a moment, “so I might have a problem that isn’t going to go away unless I deal with it and I really don’t want to deal with it,” he said, frowning into the coffee as he spoke. Once he was done speaking, he lifted his head and looked over at Mike who was simply staring back at him with that same smile.

“You know what I’m going to say right?” Mike said, brows raised as he lifted the mug to his face and took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Yeah, I know, I’m going to have to deal with it eventually, I’d just rather that eventually be a long time in the future, maybe when we’re all married or whatever,” Stan grumbled, he pressed his hand flat against the cool surface of the table.

“But you know that’s not the proper way to deal with your problems right?” Mike asked, one brow cocked in Stan’s direction as he plucked a cookie from the plate between them. “Take it from a farmer Stan, if you let things fester, they’ll only be harder to deal with later,” he continued, cookie held aloft between his thumb and forefinger.

“I know that,” Stan groaned and slumped back in the chair, a little resigned.

“So it’s that bad eh?” Mike chuckled again, he held the half eaten cookie still between his fingers, he dipped it into his still steaming drink before finishing it off.

“The worst,” Stan said, dejected.

Mike continued to sip at his hot chocolate as he waited for Stan to decide whether he let Mike in on his troubles or not. Stan hadn’t told anyone, had kept his longing, his irritating infatuation to himself. He knew that telling someone would alleviate at least some of the stress that had been weighing on his shoulders for months. Stan hated keeping secrets, especially between the seven of them, but he was worried that they’d just shoot him down like a clay pigeon before he could work through his feelings on his own. There wasn’t much of a danger of him figuring things out for himself though and Mike had never laughed at him, let alone shot him down in the way that Stan feared.

He leaned forward and set his elbows on the tabletop, eyes on Mike’s deep browns that were as dark as the coffee before Stan. He took a moment to collect himself, he began with a shallow breath.

“I-I,” Stan cleared his throat and took a large gulp of his coffee before he continued, “I think I’m falling for Richie and I mean think as in I know. I know it’s absolutely stupid and I know there’s no way that Richie would ever like me back. I’m trying so hard to not let it ruin things between us because he’s my best friend. So, that’s why I’m just trying to ignore it, maybe it’ll go away eventually,” he rambled, he lay his hands palm up across the table.

“Stan,” Mike said steadily as he reached out and placed his hand over Stan’s, “it’s not stupid to like someone,” he added with a squeeze of Stan’s hand.

“Yeah, but how do I know I really like him, what if it’s just that we’ve been around each other so long and I’m just reacting to the affection he’s giving me because we’re friends,” Stan rationalised, he ran his free hand through his hair, he knew he was just making excuses. He’d been talking himself out of doing something about this for a while now and it’d take more than soothing platitudes to get him to do anything about the feelings he’d grown for Richie.

“Calm down,” Mike said gently, he ran his thumb over Stan’s knuckles, “I think you know, Stan, otherwise you wouldn’t be so wound up about it,” he said, watching Stan with the eyes of a long suffering friend.

“I know, but that makes it worse, I’ve got feelings for my best friend. So, I’m just supposed to go ahead and potentially ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had because of some stupid feelings?” Stan said, brows almost disappearing into his fringe, he rubbed at his brow and stared down at the knots in the table.

“Or something good could happen,” Mike returned with that soft reassuring smile still gently plastered to his face. “If you never do anything about it then you’ll never know,” he added, he let go of Stan’s hand then and sat back in chair to finish off the hot chocolate.

Stan swallowed hard as he stared back at Mike, he felt uneasy at the thought of never knowing one way or the other, but he was still scared and fear was often paralysing.


	13. Chapter 13

The snow was lying thicker now, it crunched satisfyingly beneath Richie’s boots, but the way it melted upon them made his toes feel damp and cold. Richie didn’t particularly care, he wouldn’t be outside for long but it was uncomfortable all the same. He met Ben and Beverly as they all approached the Denbrough house and bounded up to them with his usual vigour.

“Hey Benny-boy,” Richie exclaimed as he wrapped an arm around Ben’s shoulder and pulled the other close to his side. “I’ve missed you man,” he said and firmly patted Ben’s chest, it drew a short cough from Ben’s mouth.

“Hi Richie,” Ben laughed softly and coughed once more. He let Richie’s arm stay around him as they walked up the path to the house.

“What about me?” Beverly said, she looked back at them over her shoulder as she walked ahead, brows arched in Richie’s direction.

“Oh you know I love you Ms. Marsh, no need to be jealous,” Richie snickered.

He was careful as he took the steps up to the porch, they were slick with snow and he had gripped the railing, which was also snow caked, with his bare hand as he made his way to the door. He stopped beside Beverly, who had already rung the bell, with Ben still held to his side. While they waited, Richie stepped back from Ben and really looked him over for the first time.

“You’re looking a little tan dude, you do a lot of sunning in December?” Richie commented, he whistled as he looked Ben up and down.

“You said that at Thanksgiving,” Ben said, smiling as he shook his head.

“I just can’t believe that you’re still so golden in this bitter winter,” Richie said, he chuckled as a thought came to him, “our golden Haystack,” he added and Beverly snorted next to him.

“Beep beep Richie,” Ben said with affection.

The door opened then and Mr. Denbrough stood in the threshold, he welcomed them inside and asked how school was, small talk always flowed easily in the Denbrough house. Richie found it strange how you could miss someone else’s family, but he had, he’d missed the whole Denbrough family. He embraced little Georgie, who wasn’t so little anymore, just like he’d wrapped his arm around Ben. When he saw good ole big Bill, well Richie had ran straight for him and had lifted him clean off the ground as Bill laughed with a gentle grip on Richie’s shoulders. Eddie called him overdramatic, but Richie knew that Eddie must have made just as big a fuss of Bill as he did, Bill and Eddie had been friends for as long as any of them could remember and Eddie had always been completely smitten with Bill.

They took up the living room, Georgie sat with them, and shared college stories. Bill had apparently nearly hit one of his professors while on Silver, which had earned him some notoriety around the campus, Bill had always had a way of being invisible until the very moment he wasn’t.

Mike and Stan arrived shortly after, wrapped in scarves and woollen hats. Richie watched Stan meticulously unwrap himself, the movements were fluid and practiced, he found himself enraptured. Beverly’s elbow in his side brought him back to the world and to the fact that Georgie had asked him a question.

Now that all of them were together again, Richie felt strangely whole in a weird way, as though he could never be completely himself without the rest of them. It may have been scary to others, but to Richie it was comforting, knowing so wholly that these people would always accept him. As he thought about it, his eyes drifted to Stan who sat on folded legs on the floor. He wondered if Stan would accept him when he finally got up the courage to actually confess his feelings. Fear of rejection wasn’t his biggest fear, mostly he was worried that they couldn’t be friends anymore after he cut himself open and laid out his guts for Stan between them.

Mike pulled a large wad of photographs out of his coat pocket, he’d been taking them all throughout the semester. They were passed around and the group looked at them in awe as Mike slightly glowed with mild embarrassment. Richie could barely pay attention to what was going on around him, his eyes kept flicking back to Stan across from him. It was painful, being so close to Stan in so many ways but the one way he ached to be.

“Hey Richie,” Georgie called from beside Bill, yanking Richie from his thoughts as he so often was.

“Yeah little man,” Richie smiled, more thankful for the distraction than Georgie would ever know.

“I’ve been learning the guitar,” Georgie said with a wicked grin.

“Oh yeah, you’ve been shredding it up while Bill’s not around to tell you to shut up, eh?” Richie asked, smiling back at Georgie just as wide.

“Of course, you wanna hear some?” Georgie said, as though it was a given.

“Alright,” Richie got to his feet and began to follow Georgie out of the room.

“Bring it down and let the rest of us hear,” Beverly called after them, her smile was warm as she curled around Ben’s side with a few photographs held in her hand.

“I’ll listen first and then we’ll see if he’s ready for his awaiting audience,” Richie assured, he dropped his hand onto Georgie’s shoulder and guided the kid out of the room.

The stairs creaked beneath his weight and Richie loved the way that the wooden railing felt beneath his hand, he curled his fingers around it and let it ground him. He remembered when he could barely reach up to grab the very same railing, they were growing up and he was running out of time to grip opportunity by the lapels of its fancy jacket. Georgie’s room was the same but still so very different. It was the typical teenager’s room, posters on the wall, underwear in sight and the faint smell of boy that mothers constantly battled against.

Georgie’s guitar was propped against the corner of the room, Richie sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Georgie picked up the guitar and sat at the desk chair. Georgie gave a strum and listened, Richie instantly missed his guitar and wanted to run home and get it, wanted to write bad love songs about the colour of Stan’s hair. He shook his head and tried to focus back on the boy before him.

“So, you learn any Nirvana?” Richie asked with a small smirk.

“I’m trying,” Georgie murmured as his fingers alighted upon the strings and the opening riff of Come As You Are sounded out. Richie listened and smiled as Georgie only made small mistakes. “Are you and Stan together yet?” He asked without even looking up from the guitar that he was slightly bent over.

“What?” Richie exclaimed, his heart jumped into his throat as he stared wide eyed at Georgie, magnified eyes blinking owlishly at the younger boy.

“That’s a no then,” Georgie drew out, hand pressed flat against the strings to quiet the guitar.

“You’re lucky that you’re your brother’s brother,” Richie groaned, flabbergasted by the sheer fact that he was sort of being chewed out by Georgie of all the people to be chewed out by. On top of that it seemed that Georgie was rooting for him, which was much more than Richie could handle at that moment.

“Come on Richie,” Georgie said, seemingly exasperated, as he leaned over the guitar perched in his lap, his fringe fell into his eyes.

“Alright kid, just because I like you so much I won’t mess you up,” Richie said, he stood and ruffled Georgie’s hair, “bring the guitar down,” he turned to make his way out of the room.

“Hey,” Georgie said, hand caught around Richie’s elbow, Richie looked back at him with his brows raised expectantly, “I just think-“

“I know Georgie, it’s fine, I’m working up to it,” Richie said, he hoped that his smile was reassuring even though it didn’t feel like it, he moved out of the room before Georgie was able to say anymore.

As he made his way down the stairs, Richie wondered how many of them knew about his ‘secret’ crush, Beverly knew because he’d told her, Eddie knew because they were the worst best friends and somehow just sort of knew things about each other; they were strangely observant about each other. He’d known about Eddie’s crush on Bill before anyone else had figured it out and Eddie knew he was smoking before anyone else had suspected. He didn’t think that anyone else had known, but after what Georgie had said he began to wonder, if Goergie knew then who else knew? If Georgie knew then it sort of went without saying that Bill knew, Bill might have been completely oblivious to his own romantic options but he knew Richie perhaps better than he knew himself, they’d just been friends for that long that it was only a matter of time before Bill figured it out. Mike was just a very observant guy, Richie wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d known before Richie did himself, but Mike would never let on and Richie was thankful for that. Maybe Beverly had spoken to Ben about it, Richie didn’t care about that and he knew that Ben wasn’t the kind to gossip about other people’s business.

It didn’t matter who else knew though, not to Richie, just as long as Stan didn’t find out before he was ready to say anything. He really needed to figure this thing out before he got in over his head. He already felt as though he were drowning.


	14. Chapter 14

Richie was on edge, Stan could tell by the way the other couldn’t sit still for more than a few seconds. He thought better of telling Richie to stop, no matter how distracting it was he could deal with It as long as Richie told him about whatever was bothering him at some point or another. At least Eddie was with them this time. Hopefully he’d find something to argue with Richie about or something to agree about, anything to stop Richie from twitching around so much.

“Stan, your taste in music is dog shit,” Eddie grumbled from the backseat, staring daggers at the radio.

“This is the traffic report Eddie,” Stan returned flatly, he flicked his eyes up to the rear view mirror to look back at Eddie.

“Exactly,” Eddie exclaimed, eyebrows raised, “Richie switch it to something that isn’t going to bore me to death,” he added, he gave Richie’s shoulder a push from over the passenger seat.

“Usually I’d side with Stan just to piss you off, but you’ve really got a point this time Eddie,” Richie said as he reached over the change the station, but Stan slapped his hand away.

“You, of all people should know that you don’t touch the dial without my permission,” Stan said, he side-eyed Richie as he tried to keep his focus on the road. “The traffic report is important because I have to know whether there are delays or there’s been a crash or something that’s going to ruin the drive,” he rambled, he knew he was rambling, he knew that they’d been listening to the report for far longer than they needed to, but the sound of it calmed his nerves and he had a lot of those when he was this close to Richie.

When Stan had hoped that Eddie and Richie would be distracted by each other, he didn’t think that they would team up on him.

“Okay Stanny, but soon we’ve gotta hear something else, otherwise me and good ol’ Eds here are gonna go crazy,” Richie said cheerily, he began to tap his fingers against his knee again.

Stan rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty sure the two of you can survive without music for another few minutes.”

“Do you really want to test that Stan because there’s no telling what might happen,” Richie said, he lifted his hands palm up close to his face and stared at them dramatically, Stan covered up his laughter with a scoff.

“Hey he’s right you know, I’ve never seen him go without music for more than half a day, he’s a live wire,” Eddie said, he had his fingers clutched around Richie’s seat as he pulled himself forward enough to get a look at the side of Stan’s face.

Even if the pair of them were irritating, it was still entertaining, not that he’d ever tell them that. Stan made a show of sighing before he spoke.

“Fine, but don’t touch the volume,” he warned, eyes stringently stuck to the road ahead of them.

Eddie and Richie spent some time arguing about which station they should listen to until Stan threatened to pull the car over, after that they finally decided on one. The music was pretty pleasant and Stan didn’t mind the sound at all. He also didn’t mind the way that Eddie and Richie sang along. When they were alone, Richie sang however he felt like singing, but whenever Eddie was around Richie sang his very best just to pull out Eddie’s competitive side. It wasn’t exactly hard to wind Eddie up and at this point Stan had long ago figured out that Richie just loved to watch Eddie go.

The roads were gritted but Stan was still driving carefully, it was easier to do so when his passengers were distracted from distracting or more aptly annoying him.

 

* * *

 

They stopped at a gas station along the way, Stan had filled up the car before they’d left and he wasn’t about to buy anything from a gas station and he certainly wasn’t going to use their restroom either. Richie had been the one begging him to pull over, he practically leapt out of the car before it fully came to a stop, which made Stan’s heart jump into his throat.

“Richie!” He yelled after the other, but Richie ignored him, obviously in dire need of relieving his bladder.

He sat in silence for a moment, staring at where Richie had been as he thought about how terribly that could have gone.

“Hey Stan,” Eddie spoke up from the backseat, startling Stan from his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Stan said, he unbuckled his belt and turned to look back at Eddie.

“You ever gonna stop torturing yourself?” Eddie asked, face a mask of cryptic emotions and accusations that Stan didn’t have the information to decode. Eddie did this sort of thing often and quite frankly Stan hated it, it reminded him of when kids used to yell ‘I know something you don’t know’.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan returned, brows drawn together.

“Why don’t you just tell Richie how you feel?” Eddie asked, coming straight out with it, Stan was sure Eddie was taking a little glee in taking Stan off guard and torturing him a little.

“Why don’t you just tell Bill how you feel?” Stan spat right back, only once the words were out did he regret them, it was a little cruel but then again so was Eddie.

“I did and he said I love you too because he had no idea what I meant!” Eddie all but exploded, flailing around as he spoke, the motion made Stan flinch.

“Okay fair point, he’s oblivious, damn you’ve got it really bad,” Stan said, he sighed and flicked his eyes toward the restroom that Richie had disappeared into.

“Don’t just try to change the subject!” Eddie exclaimed, drawing back Stan’s attention.

“Um, okay, how about on my death bed?” Stan suggested with his trademark monotone.

“You are a coward Stanley Uris,” Eddie accused, pointing his finger toward Stan.

“You think you can just insult me into confessing my feelings?” Stan asked with one brow cocked at the other.

“Stan!” Eddie yelled.

“Alight Eddie, that’s enough, I’ve actually had this conversation and I don’t need to have it again. I’ll get around to it when I’m ready if that’s okay with you?” Stan said sharply, Eddie stared back at him slack jawed.

He turned back to face forward and turned the radio up, he stared through the windshield and out at the road as cars whizzed by. The atmosphere inside the car felt tense and Stan knew that maybe he was being a little too sour.

“Stan, I’m sorry I just-“

“I know, it’s fine,” Stan sighed without looking back at Eddie, he felt a little ashamed at the way he’d snapped at the other, even though snapping at people was kind of Eddie’s deal. He tapped his fingers against his knees as he waited for Richie to return.


	15. Chapter 15

Things seemed the same, but Richie knew they were different. It was late in the evening and Richie was laid out on his bed with his head dangling slightly off of the edge. He watched Stan’s back as they other sat at the desk apparently studying, what else did Stan ever do besides study or read at that desk. Richie, himself, read comics, played his crummy acoustic guitar and occasionally studied at his desk. He could see the firm lines of Stan’s back through his pressed shirt, Stan didn’t exactly exercise but the way he took good care of himself clearly showed.

As he stared, Richie tried to think of what he might say, when he might say it. A night like this would be a good night. On a night like this, Stan didn’t have much going on and there would be no one to disturb them, they’d have all night to hash things out. It couldn’t be that night though, they’d only been back at college a few days and Richie wasn’t exactly a wordsmith. He was still figuring out what to say.

Just coming out with it felt wrong, he felt like he had to explain himself or Stan would be left with too many questions which Richie wouldn’t be able to decipher if Stan didn’t come right out with it. Neither of them were the most forth coming with their feelings, they told each other things sure, but Richie didn’t like to burden others and he knew that Stan was the same. All this did though was make things all that much harder. How could he get the words out of himself and have Stan understand him?

He was going around in circles and he knew it, but cycles were hard to break and if Richie was going to get this done then he’d have to work through it, gritted teeth and all. Richie rolled onto his side and rose from the bed. He made his way to his own desk and pulled out a new and empty notebook, he flipped it open to the first page and put his pen to the paper.

 _The ultimate plan that will not fail_ , he wrote at the top of the page.

Richie knew that writing all this down while Stan was right behind him was risky, he knew Stan wouldn’t snoop through his things but he would come and look over his shoulder, especially if Stan thought he was actually studying. It didn’t matter though, he didn’t know how else to sort through his thoughts. Writing down his feelings wasn’t nearly as painful as he imagined saying them would be, but it still felt like pulling teeth and Richie’s writing grew more scratchy as he tried harder.

 

* * *

 

Stan had always hated the sound of the vacuum cleaner, but it was just the price he had to pay for a clean floor. Compromise, it was something that Stan had to learn about early on, sometimes he would be dirty and he’d have to deal with it until he got home or he’d have to wait until his next allowance to get just the right pencil because the lead in his last one snapped or he’d have to let Richie sing along loudly to some obnoxious music just so that the other would follow his rules and sometimes he’d have to deal with the overwhelming sound of the vacuum cleaner in order to remove the scum from their floor. As Richie would have said “you gotta give a little to get a little,” Stan was sure he was quoting something else but he didn’t care enough to find out what.

The vacuum was cumbersome and Stan would have considered what he was doing as a form of exercise, he was practically working up a sweat from rolling it back and forth. He spent the most of his time around Richie’s side of the room. It wasn’t in the worst state he’d seen it, but the books stacked on the desk were likely to fall off from the slightest of nudges, he tried to ignore it. It was one of their rules, he didn’t touch anything of Richie’s as long as it was on the desk or the bedside table, if it was where it should be then Stan wasn’t allowed to touch it.

It took him nearly forty minutes to be fully done, he switched the vacuum off and leant against it as he stood upright, he rubbed his brow with his forearm and surveyed his handiwork quite pleased with himself. He turned away from Richie’s bed, ignoring the urge to adjust the sheets. As he rounded the bed, dragging the vacuum behind him, he bumped into Richie’s desk and a book fell off the edge and landed open on the floor.

A page stared up at Stan, the words scratched across the top of the page proclaimed ‘ _The ultimate plan that will not fail’_ , he tried not to read it but his eyes ran away from him. It was written in bullet points that seemed to be disjointed thoughts, a lot of crossing out and words crammed into the margins. Stan only read half the page, but that was enough to have his heart thudding in a way that made his knees feel weak, it read:

  * _Wait for a moment where Stan will feel safe and have time to process the information._
  * _Make yourself as CLEAR as possible, leave no room for misunderstanding!_
  * _Write down exactly what you are going to say._
  * _Practice_
  * _Practice on Eddie._
  * _Bribe Eddie._
  * _DO NOT FAIL. FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION!_



Stan bent down, picked the notebook up, closed it and placed it back on the desk. He placed it as haphazardly as he could, he tried to remember exactly how it had been stacked, Richie would notice. Richie could be irritatingly observant at the worst of times.

He could hear his pulse like the pounding of a drum, his palms were clammy as he stared where he’d left the notebook. Stan’s mind raced, he didn’t exactly know what he’d read but whatever it was had him physically paralysed. Stuck to the spot, he knew he was reading far too much into the short amount of what he’d read, but there was an irritatingly loud voice saying something that Stan had a hard time not listening to.

It told him that maybe, just maybe, Richie was going through the same sort of hell he was. Just the thought of Richie returning his feelings was enough to have him feeling dizzy. Stan knew it couldn’t be true, that he was reading too much into so little. He couldn’t know, he couldn’t think such a stupid thing. He dropped himself on the edge of the bed and stared down at the previously forgotten vacuum, there was a way to find out, but snooping in other people’s business had never been Stan’s deal, he was not one to ignore other people’s need for privacy since he so treasured his own. He lifted his eyes back up to the desk and felt guilt slickly crawl down his spine.

He could just ask Richie, the thought of that made his stomach churn. Stan knew he couldn’t just approach Richie and say ‘hey so are you trying to confess you’re private feelings to me by writing a list of things to do that involve bribing Eddie?’ He couldn’t and he wouldn’t.


	16. Chapter 16

Stan left it alone, tried not to think about it, but it was a small part of the biggest thing that had been destroying his concentration since they’d started college and it was only a matter of time until it started to bug him again. He’d catch Richie writing in the notebook quite often, Richie hadn’t said anything about the placement of it and he hadn’t asked Stan if he’d touched it or not, but that didn’t mean that Richie didn’t know and it was thoughts like that which had him suffocating in his own room.

He spent a little more time at library, he wasn’t exactly avoiding Richie this time, it was more that he was actually trying to focus. It only helped a little and it was just as Mike had told him, something had to give and if Stan was going to get ahead of complete and total chaos, well he’d have to take the reigns and meet it head on.

That thought was what led him back to their dorm room, heart pounding so hard that he began to wonder whether Richie could hear it or not. He stood in front of their door, flexing his hands at his sides as he stared at the shoddy varnish job, there was a drumming against at the back of his head that felt suspiciously like doubt and fear mixed together. Stan wasn’t really a ‘now or never’ kind of guy, that was more Richie’s thing, but he felt as though if he didn’t step up soon then he was sure that it would only get harder. He tapped his fingers against the door four times before he opened it.

Richie was sat against the headboard of his bed with a comic book in his lap, Stan stood by the door and watched Richie. He really took the other in as though this would be the last time he’d be able to look at Richie like this. He ran his hand up his face and scrubbed it through his hair before he began.

“Uh, Richie,” Stan called, he moved a little further into the room but remained standing, he felt more in control that way.

“Eh, what’s up doc?” Richie said, imitating Bugs Bunny as he smiled up at Stan.

“I, I was vacuuming in here the other day,” Stan began to explain, but couldn’t finish his thought and Richie jumped in before he could get the words out.

“Yeah vacuuming Thursday, I know it well,” Richie said, he spoke as though he were recalling a fond memory and Stan felt as though he were about to snap the neck of Richie’s sunny optimism.

“So, when I was vacuuming I bumped into your desk and a notebook fell off of it,” Stan continued, his eyes were steady on Richie, he watched as Richie’s face slowly turned to stone. “I didn’t mean to read it, but it landed face up and you know how eyes work Richie,” he said, he had his hands halfway into his pockets as he tried not to stand awkwardly.

“And?” Richie struggled out. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he waited from Stan’s reply.

“And I wanted to know if maybe we’re in the same situation,” Stan said, to himself he sounded like a coward, dancing around the actual issue like he always did.

“Stan, that’s too vague,” Richie said, comic book forgotten as it slipped off of his lap.

There was too much pressure inside his head, the pounding of his heart strangely felt as though someone were slamming a sledgehammer against his chest. He felt too hot and too cold at the same time, he wanted to jump into action but was frozen to the spot. Stan was certainly not the type to throw caution to the wind, but if there ever was a time for it now was that time. He steeled himself and tried to embody the kind of blind confidence that Bill wore like invisible armour.

“I like you and not just as my best friend, I like you in the romantic way that people like each other,” Stan said, he could feel that his face was aflame, “and I was wondering whether you felt the same?” He strained to keep his voice even as he asked the question that had been torturing him for months now. His head was swimming, but he’d done it and that felt like a victory in and of itself.

* * *

Richie swore he was dreaming, maybe he’d died and gone to heaven, what a strange twist of fate that would be. He’d always joked that he was going to hell and he knew that his heart wouldn’t be pounding against his ribs so painfully if he were actually dead.

“What?” Richie asked, unable to stop himself as he stared at Stan, beautiful, anal, glorious, studious Stan, with deepening disbelief.

“You heard what I said Richie, I’m not repeating myself,” Stan said testily, jaw set as he stared at Richie.

Who would have known that the stupid little list in his notebook, a list that he’d written mostly to work out his frustration, would be the thing that made them give. Richie figured that neither of them were the most confident of people and that they had been going around and around in a cycle of self torture, frustration and fear since the beginning of college or however long Stan had been feeling what he was feeling.

“Right,” Richie said, he got up from the bed and strode over to Stan. He loved the way Stan’s face shifted into mild confusion as he wrapped his gangly arms around the other and drew him into a firm embrace. “Of course I feel the same, I’ve been going back and forth for fucking months Stanny,” he said with a smile cracked wide across his face, he held Stan at arm’s length, “I’ve been fucking torturing myself, telling myself that if I ever told you it’d ruin everything,” he confessed.

“Yeah, I kinda felt the same,” Stan murmured, head tilted as he looked away, bashful in his relief.

“What changed, eh? What made our Stanley so brave?” Richie said as he prodded at Stan’s cheeks, he felt so giddy that he could cry with laughter.

Stan batted his hand away, “I don’t know, Mike gave me some advice and then Eddie, of all people, actually called me a coward, but seeing that weird list you made just I don’t know,” Stan rambled, he adjusted his jacket by pulling softly on the lapels as stared back at Richie.

“Hmmm, so we’re boyfriends now right?” Richie asked, smirking as he stepped into Stan’s space again and put his arms back around the other. “Stanley Uris is my boyfriend,” he snickered as he tilted his head down.

“I guess so,” Stan said with the beginnings of his own smirk before he leant up and pressed their lips together in a chaste touch. Fingers caught in the front of Richie’s shirt, he rocked back on his heels as he pulled away from the kiss.

Richie felt dizzy, what an evening, first he’d finally gotten to read the new Amazing Spider-man, then Stan had confessed to feeling the same way that he did and Stan had kissed him. Stan, I hate dirt, Uris. Stan, people are gross and make too much mess, Uris. Stan, wash your hands before and after every meal, Uris. The same Stan had kissed him, Richie felt as though he’d ascended to another plane of existence.

“This shit is like some terrible Shakespeare comedy or something,” Richie murmured, arms around Stan’s waist, he held the other close. “You know even Georgie gave me a pep talk, that kid’s going places,” he said.

Stan laughed, something a little higher than usual, Richie figured that Stan was just as giddy as he was. It’d been a real comedy of errors. Richie could see them dodging each other without realising that they were torn and twisted up in the same way as the other, stealing glances in alteration, feeling sick with the same dread that they’d destroy the precious thing between them.

“So when did you realise you wanted a piece of this stud muffin?” Richie asked, with a wicked grin as he craned his neck to stare down at Stan.

Stan rolled his eyes and Richie knew he was falling in love.


	17. Chapter 17

“God, if I’d known that you’d be this insufferable I would have never tried to help,” Eddie whined, sharp fingernails tapping against the ceramic of his coffee mug. He stared hard at the ridiculously jovial form of Richie across from him.

“Don’t worry Eddie, you didn’t do a thing,” Richie smirked and it only deepened as Eddie groaned.

Stan came in then, all wrapped up, and whatever Eddie was beginning to say became impossible to hear. Their eyes caught across the room and Richie could taste his heart from the way it jumped into his throat. It was almost as though it wasn’t real, it didn’t feel real, Richie was still getting used to the idea that Stan had wanted exactly the same thing as he did. He wanted to jump up from his chair, run up behind Stan as the other stood in line and wrap his arms around the other from behind. He didn’t, but he thought about it all the same.

There was a strange sense of pride that swirled inside him as he watched Stan make his order, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t felt like that before whenever he watched Stan with that familiar awe. Back then he’d be filled with the greatest sense of pride in the fact that Stan had chosen him as his best friend, now though Richie felt something even more colourful, Stan had chosen him over everyone else to be with and Richie couldn’t help but brim with pride at the thought.

“Hey Eds,” Richie called, smiling something wicked at the other, a sight that Eddie was all too familiar with.

“What Richard?” Eddie asked testily.

“That’s my boyfriend,” Richie announced smiling widely, Eddie levelled a glare at him that promised severe pain the moment no one was looking.

“You. Are. Insufferable.”

“I guess you just love to suffer,” Richie returned and that earned him a kick to his shin under the table, it was still worth it just for the flames in Eddie’s eyes.

Stan came over to them, holding a mug of coffee that was as dark as oil. Gloves poked out of Stan’s pocket, his fingers were pink as they warmed against the steaming mug, he sat down next to Richie. Richie couldn’t stop staring, he used to steal glances whenever he thought that Stan wouldn’t catch him, but now he could openly watch the other with the bewildered awe that he’d been feeling inside for so long that it had been burning him up.

“Please tell me he’s wrong?” Eddie implored, somewhat leaning over the table toward Stan.

“About?” Stan said as he pulled his planner from his coat pocket.

“The two of you,” Eddie said, his eyes flicked between them.

“He’s not wrong,” Stan said, tone unaffected as he leafed through the planner. Eddie groaned again.

* * *

Wings were hard to draw, birds were hard to draw, drawing was hard and the furrow between Richie’s brows deepened with the effort it was taking. All he wanted to do was draw a phoenix, why did that have to be so hard?

Things were tentative between him and Stan, he could tell that they were both holding back. When you starve yourself of something for so long, you’re going to be ravished by the time your lips reach food, but you need to pace yourself otherwise you’re bound to make yourself ill. Or at least that was what Richie was telling himself, it was probably a fear of the intensity of their feelings that was actually holding him back. Richie knew he was a little afraid of the way he wanted to be glued to Stan at all times.

It had only been two days since they had shared their feelings. Only two days and Richie’s skin itched with the need to press Stan into that pristine mattress. He had fantasised about kissing Stan for so long and now that he could the knowledge that he wasn’t always doing it was driving him up the wall, he kissed Stan as often as he could without making Stan feel self conscious or anxious.

Stan’s lips were as soft as pillows and tasted like Vaseline. Richie had thought that since Stan wasn’t so experienced maybe the other would be tentative and shy, but Stan was anything but. He’d been taken aback by the way Stan surged up toward him, either meeting him halfway or catching him off guard, almost every kiss would be followed with a comment about him needing to quit smoking.

Richie defined the flames that came off of the phoenix with long wispy lines, his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as his brows furrowed in concentration. He felt the urge to do something for Stan. The relief was strangely intense and Richie could hardly deal with it, he felt boneless and as weightless as a kite, he could float away from the smallest of breezes.

“Hey,” Stan called as he entered the room and Richie jolted upright, the pen flew out of his hand and landed somewhere he didn’t see. “Okay,” Stan drew out, brow arched as he stared over at Richie.

“Hi,” Richie smiled; he turned around in his chair with his arm rested on the back of it.

“That was really suspicious,” Stan said evenly.

“Yeah, I was just concentrating really hard and you startled me,” Richie admitted, he pushed his glasses back up his nose with his knuckle. “You can look if you want,” he added.

Stan shrugged and strode over to Richie, leant over him and looked at the small drawing. Richie felt drugged, as though he were getting a contact high from being so close to Stan. Richie ached to touch, to talk, to do something he knew would irritate the other, but he didn’t he just stared up at Stan as he was bent over him. Stan rested a hand on Richie’s shoulder and stared hard down at the small sketch.

“I was just wasting my time,” Richie said, sweating under Stan’s gaze.

“Is it for me?” Stan asked, eyes heavy as they turned to Richie and the other waned under the weight of that stare.

“Yeah,” Richie said, a little bashful, “it’s not finished,” he added as he watched Stan reach toward the paper.

Stan took the loose page from under Richie’s hand and held it close to his face. There was the ghost of a smile pressed along his lips, Richie couldn’t believe how beautiful Stan looked then as he was staring at the crappy half finished drawing. Stan’s eyes were alight with a strange warmth, his dirty blond hair had fallen into his face as he stared down and he was still wearing his coat and scarf.

“It’s mine now,” Stan said, tone monotonous, and Richie choked on his own spit.

“Hey thief, I said it wasn’t finished,” Richie grumbled as he jumped out of his chair.

“You said it was for me so I can’t steal something that’s already mine,” Stan returned, smiling fully now.

“Oh come now, no one likes a smartass Stanley,” Richie huffed, feeling more than a little put out.

“That’s funny because I seem to remember you kissing me quite passionately just this morning,” Stan said, smiling softly and bristling with pride in same the way he always did whenever he got one over on Richie.

Richie felt embarrassed by the amount of attention Stan was paying to the stupid little sketch that wasn’t even the one he wanted to give to Stan. He’d wanted to get some poster paper and spend some real time drawing something actually special for Stan, not the scratchy mess that was currently in Stan’s hand. Despite all the things that Richie had hoped to do for Stan, the other seemed exceedingly pleased with it and that only embarrassed Richie more.

“Fine, but you have to pay me for it, that’s a Richie Tozier original ya know,” Richie said nodding in the direction of Stan’s hand, with his hands on his hips.

“What do you want Richie?” Stan asked, he looked over at the other, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Just a kiss Stanley, I’m sure you can fork out that much,” Richie said and tapped his lip with the pad of his finger.

Stan sighed, but Richie could see the corners of Stan’s mouth twitching upward as he set the sketch down on his own desk before turning back to Richie. He stood there, waiting for Stan to approach him, he tried to keep his smirk down. Stan closed in on him, he tilted his head up and pressed their lips together softly before he pulled back, rocking onto the heels of his feet.

“Do you want a receipt?” Richie asked, brow arched as he opened his eyes, his smile turned crooked as he spoke.

Stan actually giggled at that.

* * *

Their beds were barely a few metres apart, they slept in the same room, but to Stan it still felt as though they were oceans apart. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since elementary school and even then Stan had complained to his parents about it, enough that they’d gotten an airbed not too long after, which now that he thought about it would have been pretty expensive and the realisation made him feel guilty for something he’d done over a decade ago. Now, right then, he just wanted to close the distance between them.

Stan swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep. It didn’t work though, he couldn’t forget how close Richie was to him, the other’s presence was forever on his mind. Things were still so new between them and Stan definitely wasn’t about to jump out of his own clean bed and into Richie’s bed of questionable hygiene. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared up at the ceiling, there was still so much distance between them and really Stan knew he had no idea what the hell he was doing. Stan wasn’t the kind to just wing things or go with the flow and the fact that he didn’t know a damn thing about what he was supposed to be doing was sending him round the bend.

“Are you sure we haven’t just made things really weird?” Stan murmured, louder than a whisper but almost not loud enough to carry over to the other side of the room, he half hoped that Richie hadn’t heard him.

“Stanley,” Richie groaned as he lifted his head from the pillow, “what are you talking about?” He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he rolled over to face Stan’s side of the room, there was no way he could see the other without his glasses. He could just about make out Stan’s form in the darkness.

“I have no idea what I’m doing here, what am I supposed to be doing? Is there anything I’m supposed to be doing? Are there rules to this? Do we have to hide it, do we have to worry about people finding out because I’m sort of worried about people finding out. What if we’re doing this all wrong, I can’t even think properly,” Stan rambled, the words bumped into each other as he sat upright in the bed, the sheets pooled around his waist and his chest heaved as his mind continued to whir.

“Stan, breathe,” Richie said sternly as he reached over the bedside table to switch the lamp on and pushed his glasses upon his face. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a rule book on how to have a relationship with someone, you’ve just got to feel it out and learn what the other person wants. It’s like learning to dance, I guess, it’s something we’ve got to learn how to do together.

“And yeah, I’m not exactly excited about the whole campus finding out, but it’s no one’s business but our own,” he watched Stan stare back at him.

Stan knew that Richie was right, the sound of his voice eased his fear and he curled his fingers in the sheets over his legs as he mulled over Richie’s words. It was something that they’d have to learn together, Stan felt a little better after that. He knew that Richie was just as bad, if not worse, as him when it came to worrying about things and keeping that worry inside, allowing it to fester in their minds. He felt kind of bad for dumping it all on the other, but no one knew what he was going through better than Richie.

“We’ll go at our own pace Stan,” Richie assured, his gaze was soft as he looked over at Stan and it made the other melt a little inside.

“Yeah,” Stan breathed, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. “Thanks Richie,” he murmured as he lay back down on the mattress and pulled the sheets up his body again.

“No problemo Stanaru,” Richie said as he turned off the lamp and took off his glasses, “good night.”

“Good night,” Stan returned into the darkness and closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

“Beverly, Bev, Bevvie, Honey, Darling, you will not believe what happened the other day,” Richie rambled into the phone without even taking a breath. His hands were abnormally clammy for the time of year and his fingers slid as they were wrapped around the phone receiver. He was pretty sure that he’d accidentally spat into it. He’d been waiting to tell Beverly for days and if he had to wait for a second longer he was sure that he’d explode.

“What happened Richie?” Beverly asked, her tone full of intrigue.

“Stan confessed his feelings to me,” Richie whisper yelled, one hand held close to his mouth so as though no one could overhear him.

“Oh my god, wait a second I have to tell Ben,” Beverly said excitedly and Richie couldn’t help but smile fondly.

He heard her set the receiver aside and run off calling for Ben, he laughed openly against the phone. Richie could hear muffled voices as he continued to laugh. He stood there smiling stupidly wide as he leaned against the wall and waited for Beverly to return. Her giggling was audible as she moved closer to the phone, growing louder as she picked the receiver back up.

“So what did our haystack have to say?” Richie asked amusement evident in his tone.

“Oh, he said that it’s about time,” Beverly said, laughing as she said it since obviously Ben wouldn’t say something like that.

“That’s harsh,” Richie returned.

“Honestly Richie it’s great, we’re really happy for you,” Beverly said earnestly, warming Richie’s heart in a way that made him feel a little too sappy.

“Yeah, I’m pretty happy too,” Richie said snarkily, he laughed lightly as he spoke and Beverly giggled too.

“Have you guys kissed yet?” Beverly asked, her tone shifted to something a little teasing.

“Um, of course,” Richie said, he felt strangely bashful about it. The words conjured up the memory of the few kisses that they’d shared over the past few days, the feeling of Stan’s soft and moisturised lips against his own was easy to bring to his mind. He shifted his eyes up and down the corridor as though he were worried that someone could see his thoughts.

“Oh, nice one lover boy,” Beverly whistled and somehow that just made Richie feel embarrassed, who would have known that he could feel such a thing.

“Look it’s early days Bev, I’m still worried that Stan’s gonna fly away if I look at him too hard,” Richie said, hand still around the side of his mouth. Beverly laughed throatily even though Richie was serious, maybe that just made her laugh more, Richie didn’t know.

“I think you’ll be fine Richie,” Beverly assured, still a little giggly.

“It’s nice to have you rooting for me,” Richie said honestly.

“I’ll always have your back Trashmouth,” Beverly said and burst into another bout of laughter, “I just winked, but you can’t see that,” she struggled out and Richie laughed too, feeling a little lighter.

“You really are one in a million Miss Beverly Marsh,” Richie said with pronounced reverence.

“Why thank you Mister Richie Tozier,” she replied with soft fondness, “okay I gotta so, but keep me updated, love ya,” Beverly finished her statement off with a kiss.

“Rightie-o miss, love you too,” Richie said in a piffy British accent, he made a loud smooching noise as Beverly giggled again before he hung up the phone.

He was still as giddy as he was the day Stan had half confessed, he was still as nervous as that day too, but he was excited all the same. Richie set the phone down with a warm smile on his face, talking to Beverly always made him feel a little lighter and made the world around him seem a little brighter, he almost felt as though he would float away the moment he let go of the receiver. He strangely had the urge to run to Stan and irritate the life out of the other.

Richie sniggered to himself at the thought of Stan’s closed off face as he tried not to smile or show any kind of positive emotion toward Richie and his antics. The thought left a warm feeling in his chest and he carried it all the way back to his dorm room.

* * *

Stan read and re-read the address on the front of the envelope; he was just making sure that it was right as he made his way to the mailbox. Despite its actual weight, Stan felt as though he were weighed down by the contents of the envelope, he knew it was stupid to be so worried about sending a letter to one of his best friends but he was all the same. It was just a letter to Mike saying that he’d actually plucked up the courage to do something and had confessed to Richie in a roundabout sort of way.

Maybe he should have just called Mike, he had his phone number, but he was worried about saying these things out loud. He wasn’t so worried about other people overhearing what he was talking about, you couldn’t make much from one half of a phone call. It was more something about saying the words aloud. His and Richie’s fledgling relationship was something that he’d agonised over, enough to make his skin itch, and Stan was loathe to speak about the abject relief he felt once he found out that Richie felt the same.

The comedy of errors was something that he knew Richie thought was funny, but to Stan it was something that made his stomach churn to think about. He thought of all those times that he had been pinning or thinking about Richie when the other had likely been thinking about him, all those missed opportunities made him feel light headed. All of those lingering looks and times when Stan doubted his certainty that Richie felt nothing romantic toward him flitted through his mind. It was embarrassing and its seeming obviousness to everyone else wounded his pride, his sense of intelligence had suffered quite the blow too.

Stan shifted uncertainly as he stood beside the mailbox, he knew that none of his friends would judge him, or Richie for that matter, for not noticing what had been growing between them. No one had scolded Beverly for thinking that Bill had written that poem, but had all teased her for it as Ben turned a brilliant shade of red beside her. There was nothing to be lost by telling Mike, he knew that, Mike was the most non-judgmental, gentle and understanding person that Stan had ever met and still he felt uneasy.

The indecision was gnawing at his insides and just to spite himself Stan shoved the letter into the mailbox to quell his mounting irritation.

* * *

Richie wrapped an arm around Stan’s shoulders and held the other close to him as he kissed him deeply, his other arm was around Stan’s waist. He couldn’t take it anymore, the tentative way they were dancing around each other still when everything was supposed to be out in the open.

Less than a minute ago, Stan had come through the door and Richie had pounced feeling a little love drunk as he watched Stan’s eyes widen before closing as he leaned into Richie’s touch.

He moved the hand against Stan’s waist up to his neck, palm wrapped around the back of Stan’s neck as his fingers slid into the dusty blond curls there. Stan’s hair was so soft that Richie had to groan into the other’s open mouth at the feel of it. Those lips were just as smooth and soft as the last time they’d shared a kiss, but now Riche could feel Stan’s hot breath huffed between them.

Stan was still holding his bag in one of his hands, but the other was pressed against the side of Richie’s sharp jaw. Richie felt as though he were being pulled in, dragged down toward Stan at the feeling of his cloying touch.

“Hey,” Richie murmured against Stan’s lips, the words trailed warmly into Stan’s mouth like steam twisting into the air.

“Good evening Richie,” Stan replied with a soft smile on his lips as he pulled away from Richie. He moved over to his desk and set his bag down upon it, ran his hand through his hair and pulled his scarf free from his neck.

Richie watched as he listened to Stan’s breathing grow softer until he couldn’t hear it anymore. His lips tingled from the aftertaste; he ran his fingers across them and felt a little smug at the disarray of hair at the back of Stan’s head. Richie made his way over to Stan then and leant against the other’s back, chin rested over his shoulder.

“I missed you Stanny,” he murmured against Stan’s neck.

“At least let me take my coat off,” Stan said, he shifted his shoulders as he tried to shrug Richie off.

“You’d be surprised at what you can get done through clothes,” Richie smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Stan as he craned his neck to look at the other.

“No thanks,” Stan deadpanned and Richie laughed throatily into his ear, the sensation made him shiver.

Richie moved away and let Stan get comfortable, he knew that the other wouldn’t feel right until he’d adjusted himself. He moved over to his side of the room and switched the radio on. Moving through the channels with a significant amount of static, which he knew was setting Stan’s teeth on edge, he searched for a familiar song that fit the mood. The romantic stylings of Whitney Houston and her song ‘So Emotional’ came through the small speakers. Richie fist pumped the air and turned back to Stan.

Stan was now free of his coat and was pulling things out of his bag, Richie could see his broad shoulders filling out his shirt. Richie thought that the moment couldn’t be more perfect. He strode over to Stan again and draped his arms around the other’s shoulders, pressed his lips against Stan’s soft and warm neck.

“Is now a more convenient time my darling?” Richie said, words pressed to Stan’s skin. He had one hand pressed flat against Stan’s chest and the other was lost in Stan’s angelic locks.

Stan hummed and that was more than enough confirmation that Richie needed. He lightly pulled Stan’s hair and titled his head so he could gain more access to the other’s neck. He left a trail of opened mouthed kisses as he moved up toward Stan’s jaw, he nipped at that jaw and got the faint taste of Stan’s moisturiser, on his way to Stan’s mouth again.

“Hard day at the office dear?” Richie said, smiling as his lips found the corner of Stan’s mouth.

“Oh, very,” Stan returned as he turned in Richie’s arms to face the other, he smiled into the kiss as he reached up to curl his hand around Richie’s cheek.

Richie melted into the touch as Whitney continued to sing. He lost his fingers in Stan’s glorious hair again, Stan’s soft rusted golden hair, he groaned into the other’s mouth. He could feel Stan’s lips twitch at that, obviously the sound made Stan grow more confident since the next move he made was to run his tongue over Richie’s top lip.

He knew Stan could be bold, brave and had a flair for the dramatic, but this took Richie completely off guard and sent a shiver down his spine. Richie just knew that Stan was smug about that. He couldn’t be out done by someone who had as much sexual experience as he had in his left foot, Richie grazed his nails against Stan’s scalp and revelled in the way that Stan sighed into his mouth. Their kiss turned into a heated competition because Stan was the most competitive person Richie had ever met and boy did he love to rile the other up, he could certainly give as good as he got.

They stepped away from each other breathless, lips wet and ruddy with their cheeks tinted pink. Richie could see the way the Stan was staring at his lips, as though he was thinking about going in for seconds. That was when Richie realised that the song had changed from Whitney Houston to something else, he quickly recognised it as ‘Ssudio’ by Phil Collins before he went in for more.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I was having a bit of a hard time personally so that's what that week break was about. Anyways, I've got a tumblr now so hit me up @roachytozy.

Saying that Stan was nervous would have been an understatement, he was downright terrified. He couldn’t really remember his last date, it had been when he was sixteen and the most he could remember was that it had been a complete disaster. It would have been nice to have his existential crisis alone but Richie was on the other side of the room. He looked over to find Richie in a pair of skin tight black jeans with rips in them, the exact pair that drove Stan up the wall with the way hugged Richie’s hips and thighs.

They’d been together for more than a month and hadn’t had an official date, apparently their movie nights didn’t count since it was something they’d done since they were twelve. It wouldn’t feel like a date at all, Richie had said, it would be as romantic as going to the café on campus. Stan thought that romance was more how you did something than what you did, but Richie’s insistence that it be romantic was so endearing that Stan didn’t say anything.

They were going into town to look through the thrift stores, they’d have to ride the subway, which Stan was loathe to do but Richie assured him that everything would be fine. Stan was interested to see the architecture and what kind of birds would be around in such a crowded city. He was also a little excited by the thought that this would be their first real date, not that anyone else besides them would notice, but the thought changed the context of every decision he’d made.

“Stan, just wear whatever makes you comfortable,” Richie said, pulling Stan from his thoughts.

Stan looked over at Richie, the other was wearing a well worn Nirvana t-shirt (Stan knew for a fact that there were holes in it from cigarette burns) and a denim jacket littered with random patches. Richie could be comfortable in anything, Richie would have been comfortable wearing nothing at all, Stan knew that for a fact.

“Nothing makes me comfortable,” Stan said in his usual monotone and Richie laughed heartily.

He pulled out an ensemble that he often wore and was ready within the next fifteen minutes, in those fifteen minutes Richie had flicked through a comic book, fiddled about with the radio, sat on the edge of his bed bouncing his leg. Stan ran his fingers through his hair before his spoke.

“I’m ready,” Stan announced.

“Thank fuck,” Richie sighed as he rose from the bed and turned to Stan, he stopped at the sight of the other, “nice,” he drew out.

Stan felt a little self conscious from the way Richie’s eyes moved up and down his body, he rolled his eyes when Richie whistled.

“I’ll leave without you,” Stan warned as he made his way to the door. He laughed as Richie scrambled to catch up to him, arm draped over his shoulder as he opened the door.

* * *

He watched Stan’s face shift with discomfort at the sight of the dirty train car, Richie knew Stan would be completely uncomfortable with the subway but his Stan was a trooper and Richie did his best to take Stan’s mind off of it.

“Hey Stan, you won’t believe this, but apparently Bill’s been sending Eddie these letters and-“

“I know, I told Bill to do it,” Stan murmured, he held onto Richie instead of the metal poles, despite the fact that Richie was pretty sure that he was about as dirty as the train car.

“Oh my god, you told Bill what now?” Richie grossed, brows raised and eyes wide.

“I told him that maybe he should stop being so caught up in his solitary existential gay panic and write to Eddie,” Stan explained in that monotone affect, which usually juxtaposed with his statements so well that it seemed as though he could make anything into a joke.

Richie laughed, he laughed so hard that he had to hold his stomach as he doubled over.

“Stan, you little match maker,” Richie crowed as he smacked Stan on the shoulder, he could hardly believe it.

“Well, since Eddie was so gracious to us, I figured that I owed him,” Stan said with a small smirk.

Richie was struck with the sudden urge to kiss him then, he didn’t because he knew it wasn’t the place or the time, but he thought about it as he smiled wide at Stan. It was like Richie was seeing Stan for the first time again. They were best friends for a reason, there was a lot of common ground to be found between them and even their differences were something that Richie was fond of. Those hazel eyes stared like gleaming honey at him, the horrendous buzzing fluorescents beamed down onto the twisting golden locks of hair and even the terrible lighting could do nothing dull the hue.

“Oh, I know Eddie’s getting exactly what he deserves,” Richie said, he tried not to look so star-struck but he could tell that Stan had caught him staring from the way the other blushed faintly.

“What has he told you exactly?” Stan asked, leaning in with intrigue, but Richie wondered if Stan was leaning in just to get closer to him.

“Just that Bill’s been sending him these letters that are practically poetry and recommending that he read all of these Greek stories about people worshiping people, it’s really thrown him for a loop,” Richie smiled as he waggled his eyebrows.

“Greek stories? Hmm,” Stan hummed as he tilted his head and looked out at the nothingness through the window. “Has he figured out that Bill’s trying to profess his love?” He asked after a moment.

“Our Eddie, figure something out about Bill’s interest in him? Never,” Richie replied and they both laughed like they were alone.

* * *

Richie’s slender fingers filed through the records, he had a particularly serious expression on his face that Stan hadn’t seen for a while. He hadn’t seen the other look so studious since mid-terms and even then it hadn’t lasted long. Stan was caught up in the sight, Richie’s unruly hair feel over his glasses as he bent over the display. His fingers itched to push those bangs back, but he knew he couldn’t, so instead he would just watch.

“Are you looking for anything in particular or do I have to stand here waiting for you to find something interesting for a couple of hours?” Stan said, with the added undertone of judging Richie for making him bored on their very first date.

“Not for hours, I’m just gonna bore you for a few more minutes, but hey at least the view’s good though,” Richie said as he wriggled his ass, he looked over his shoulder and winked at Stan.

Stan rolled his eyes but made no comment. He looked around the record store but in all honesty Stan was pretty content with the radio and they didn’t even own a record player, nothing caught his interest beside Richie and really hadn’t that been the issue to begin with.

His eyes were drawn back toward Richie, still bent over the records, he could see the way the back of Richie’s shirt and jacket had risen up to reveal the pale skin at the small of Richie’s back. Again Stan itched to touch.

“I’ll take you to a bookstore next and then you can bore me while I stare at your ass,” Richie said as he continued to file through the records.

“I’m not staring at your ass,” Stan protested in an unaffected tone.

“Then you’re wasting a fantastic view,” Richie scoffed, his glasses began to slide down his nose, he lifted his hand to push them back up in a swift movement before he returned to the records.

“I’m sure the people who live at beautiful vistas get bored of them too,” Stan said, he struggled to hide his smirk as he spoke.

Richie rose then with a look hurt plastered to his face. His mouth was agape and he held his hand over his chest as he stared at Stan. Richie took a quick look around the store before he spoke.

“Stanley, are you saying that you’re bored of my beautiful ass,” Richie said with a faux serious tone.

“I didn’t _say_ that,” Stan chimed, he was thankful for the almost empty state of the store as they flirted in their own unusual way.

“Oh Stan, you wound me,” Richie said dramatically, “I think you owe me a coffee for that slight,” he added haughtily, putting on a show for no one in particular.

“I’m in need of a caffeine shot after this,” Stan deadpanned, feeling childishly pleased with himself.

Richie whistled with awe, “boy is our Stan the man on a roll today.”

“You want that coffee or not?” Stan said as he made his way toward the entrance of the store.

“Yeah, I can’t find anything anyways,” Richie shrugged, as he caught up with Stan.

They walked out into the street, the crisp early afternoon air chilled their faces, and the feel of it makes Stan want to move closer to Richie. He doesn’t though, there are too many people around and just the thought of all the judging eyes makes Stan shrink in on himself. Hands shoved into his pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. He listened the sounds of Richie rambling about coffee chains as they made their way down the busy streets.

“Hey Stan, that was your cue to say something cutting and droll,” Richie said as he knocked Stan with his elbow.

“Um,” Stan murmured, he blinked over at Richie as he scrambled through his mind trying to think of something to say.

“You weren’t listening to me were you?” Richie asked, smiling as though he’d caught Stan and Stan supposed he had.

He held his hands up between them, “you got me sheriff,” Stan said again in his monotone and Richie chuckled a little.

“I was saying that I’m thinking about getting at latte, but then I thought I’d get whatever’s the most expensive,” Richie said, he smiled wide enough to show teeth then.

“You’re getting a latte,” Stan smiled, he tried to ignore the strange paranoia he felt at the thought of them being found out, as though any of these random people would care.

The coffee shop was more crowded than the streets, they sat by the window and Stan held his black coffee in his curled hands. He tapped his fingers against the ceramic as he usually did when he was nervous. Richie’s leg bounced as he sipped at the latte.

“What’s up?” Richie asked, eyeing Stan over the lip of his mug.

“I guess I just feel kind of exposed,” Stan said as he looked out the window and onto the street.

“Because of the window?” Richie asked, brows raised, his eyes blinked owlish at the other.

“No, it’s just, you and me out here, you know,” Stan elaborated, he lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Stan,” Richie sighed as he set his coffee down, “don’t worry about that,” he waved the other off. “We’re the losers, nobody’s paying attention to us,” Richie added, he leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees, there was something conspiratorial and intimate about it.

Stan could see the way that Richie wanted to reach out, he wanted to reach out too.


	20. Chapter 20

Richie was tense, he lied in his bed flat as a board with the sheets caught tightly between his fingers. Since they were kids, Richie had known that the world was not the kindest place, he and his friends had seen their fair share of horrors. At some point though, Richie hoped that he’d have had enough of it to fill a lifetime, but apparently the world was not done with him yet.

He looked over at the blurry shape of Stan in his bed. Richie had the luxury of not giving a single shit about what strangers thought about him, he’d always been able to make people laugh and whether you were nuts or queer, people always want to laugh. Richie also wasn’t unfamiliar with getting the shit kicked out of him and had a daring streak a mile wide. Stan was quieter, his lack of caring was more subdued and Stan was far more worried about being hurt than Richie could ever be.

He’d known that Stan would worry, the other already had something that others would persecute him for. Stan couldn’t hide the fact that he was Jewish, didn’t want to and Richie admired Stan’s bravery for that in a way, but being persecuted for being queer on top of that set Richie’s teeth on edge. Even if he himself didn’t deserve the pass, Stan didn’t need this anxiety on top of everything else that Stan had to worry about.

Richie knew he couldn’t cure the world of homophobia and trying to stop Stan from worrying about something was like trying to smother a house fire with nothing but a dishcloth, but he had to do something.

The inability to do anything gnawed at him and kept him awake long into the night. He felt useless and the frustration buzzed through his veins, it left him staring up at a ceiling he couldn’t actually see. There had to be something he could do to ease Stan’s fears, something other than treating Stan like as though he had glass bones and paper skin, he just wanted so desperately to make this work.

* * *

“Please,” Richie murmured, hands curled around Stan’s shoulders. He squeezed hard and Stan felt as though he would collapse against the desk from the sheer relief of the sensation.

“Hmm?” Stan hummed.

“I know you’re going to worry about it no matter what I say, but I’m not going to let that affect what we’ve got going on here,” Richie said, he smiled as he bent down and kissed the crown of Stan head, lips lost in those curls.

Stan went stiff at that, their date had only been a few days ago and Stan still felt as though he’d ruined it by letting the stupid sense of paranoia rule him. It wasn’t as though any of those random strangers even suspected that they were a couple, even if they had it shouldn’t have mattered but he’d let it dampen his enjoyment of an otherwise lovely day. Guilt ran like honey down his throat and dropped heavily into the pit of his stomach.

“I,” Stan began but needed to clear his throat, “I’m sorry about that,” he continued but had nowhere to go from there. He was sorry, but what more was there to say, it wasn’t as though his fears were unfounded. “I don’t know what to say,” he said finally.

Richie’s fingers didn’t still and Stan closed his eyes, tried to escape into the sensation.

“It’s fine Stan, I get it,” Richie said as he pressed the heel of his palms into Stan’s shoulder muscles. “but you can’t let fear make decisions for you.”

“It’s weird hearing you be the voice of reason,” Stan murmured, with his eyes still closed, he let Richie’s clammy hands quiet his anxieties.

“Yeah, you’re real far gone Stanley,” Richie said mockingly as he bent to whisper into Stan’s ear.

Stan reached his hand up and held Richie’s head against his own. He ran his fingertips along Richie’s jaw. Despite the other’s erratic behaviour and the disarray that Richie left his living space, Richie had always helped him calm down, had even seen him through panic attacks and the like. They were best friends and they worked well together despite what outsiders might think. Stan was just as set on not fucking this up as Richie was, he just needed to find his feet and was still staggering around like a fawn on brand new legs.

“It’s kind of all new to me Richie, I might fall off the bike a few more times before I really get a handle on things,” Stan tried to reassure Richie even though he wasn’t particularly sure himself. He tapped the pads of his fingertips against Richie’s cheek, felt the sharp press of that cheek bone. “Like you said, we’ll go at our own pace,” he said as he turned to face Richie.

Richie’s face was soft and hopeful, Stan wondered if he could live up to that look as Richie’s hands slid off of him.

* * *

Eddie could feel the tension in the room and instantly knew that they hadn’t had sex yet. All three of them were sat in Stan and Richie’s dorm room studying with the radio on, Eddie had been staring at the same few lines of text for a good twenty minutes. He couldn’t think over the static buzzing in the air around them. He knew he wasn’t the expert on relationship issues, but Richie and Stan were his friends and they’d already been through so much together that Eddie figured his input couldn’t total ruin things.

“Did something happen or am I reading the room wrong?” Eddie asked, looking up from the textbook that was numbing his mind.

“How do you deal with the fear of homophobia Eddie?” Stan asked, particularly cutting in his tone.

Eddie noticed the way Richie stiffened beside him at Stan’s harsh words, something had definitely happened. Richie wasn’t bouncing off the walls with joy anymore, Richie wasn’t being irritating at all and that was way out of character for Richie in Eddie’s opinion. And sure Stan was kinda testy in general, but he didn’t usually bite this easily.

“I dunno, I guess it’s just like dealing with any other kind of bullshit,” Eddie shrugged, he had no idea what he was stepping into and didn’t want to take someone’s side without knowing.

“So, you just have to get used to it?” Stan said bitterly without looking up from his book as he leant over his desk.

“Stan, that’s not what I’m saying,” Eddie said, Richie’s silence was deafening.

“Then what are you saying Eddie?” Stan turned this time, eyes boring holes into Eddie, as dramatic as usual.

“Stanley,” Richie said softly and Stan rolled his eyes.

“I’m saying that you’ve just got to live for yourself and let those jackasses worry about themselves, what happened? Did someone do something?” Eddie asked, growing more concerned and maybe a little angry as he spoke and realised what Stan was really saying.

“No, nothing happened, we don’t need our Chihuahua to bite anyone’s ankles,” Richie said, he smiled as he squeezed Eddie’s shoulder, “nice to know that you’ve got our backs though,” Richie laughed.

“So what the hell is going on? Why’s Stan so pissed off?” Eddie exploded, arms flailing as he yelled.

“I’m not pissed off,” Stan returned and his tone contradicted him.

“Liar,” Eddie hissed and Richie laughed again.

Stan sighed and turned back to his desk, Eddie’s head was spinning and he thought about throttling Stan for a second. Eddie looked up at Richie then, eyes imploring.

“When we went on our date last week, Stan was a little self conscious is all,” Richie explained, “it’s not a big deal,” he added before he looked back down at the book in his lap.

It obviously wasn’t a small deal either, not in Eddie’s opinion.

Eddie turned his eyes onto Stan’s form, doe eyes heavy on the firm lines of Stan’s back. He remembered what that kind of self consciousness had been like vividly and the memory of it made him shudder. The paranoia had been eating him alive, his mothers hadn’t been any help either, she’d constantly fed him lies from the moment she suspected that he was anything other than straight. On top of that was society, all the people around them in middle and high school had brutalised him to the point where he’d been terrified of coming out to his friends. His chest panged with sympathy.

“Stan, I’m still scared but we win by living our lives and being happy,” Eddie began, heart hammering away in his chest from the memories he’d brought up. “You think Henry Bowers is in college, enjoying himself surrounded by people that genuinely like him, of course fucking not,” Eddie said, he spoke that name as though it were poison.

“Eddie he killed his dad,” Stan said slowly as he turned to Eddie again with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, he also terrorised us, but are you thinking about that every day?” Eddie asked condescendingly, brows raised as he blinked at the other.

“No,” Stan drew out.

“Then stop worrying about these fucks too, I don’t worry about this shit when I’m out hunting for dick,” Eddie exclaimed, Stan scoffed as he tried to stay tight lipped while Richie laughed openly as he bent over double.

“You just said that to make sure I was listening,” Richie spat, still smiling wickedly.

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded at Richie.

For some reason that was that and Eddie was pretty proud of himself, he was the head queer in their group since he’d never really had the luxury of being in the closet. They went back to studying and Eddie could read now that the atmosphere had eased. The only thing that distracted him after that was the radio and Richie’s irritating humming.  

When Richie went out to get the pizzas they’d order, Eddie could feel Stan’s anxious eyes boring holes into him.

“Eddie,” Stan called softly.

“What?” Eddie asked as he looked up again from his textbook.

“Thanks,” Stan said as he blinked at Eddie.

Eddie blushed, suddenly bashful from that one word alone. “It’s no problem,” he said in return. The moment grew awkward and they both gave a silent sigh of relief when Richie boisterously re-entered the room.


	21. Chapter 21

The weather had eased to the point that Stan hardly even needed his sports jacket as he crossed the campus, he still sneered at the way Richie only wore a t-shirt against the early April air.

“I’m not going to nurse you back to health when you catch a cold,” Stan warned as he eyed Richie’s bare arms.

“You wanna bet on that Stan because I can just see you bringing me soup and patting my forehead with a damp cloth already, you won’t be able to resist my patheticness,” Richie smirked as he painted a picture with his words for Stan.

“You realise that there’s a difference between your fantasies and reality, don’t you Richard?” Stan said condescendingly as he blinked up at the other.

“Ugh, you’re so perfect for me,” Richie grossed as he slumped against Stan’s shoulder.

Stan rolled his eyes as they made their way toward their dorm, he made no move to shrug Richie off. The warmth was nice in the irritatingly temperamental weather that was somehow too cold and too hot at the same time. Stan wanted to hold Richie’s calloused hand, but Richie seemed too busy walking strangely to accommodate their current position.

“I think you’re gonna have to stand properly if we’re going to make it up the stairs,” Stan said as they approached the entrance of their dorm building.

“I could carry you,” Richie suggested but stood up straight beside Stan.

“I don’t think so,” Stan muttered, brows furrowed in a warning.

“That sounds like a challenge Stan the man,” Richie said, smirking.

“You’ll have to catch me first Trashmouth,” Stan returned before he sprinted off and inside the dorm. He’d never been able to ignore a competitive situation no matter the context or how loose the competitive aspect was. He took the stairs two at a time and heard Richie crash through the doors at the entrance, he felt a rush of adrenaline as he ran from Richie.

Once he got to their floor, Stan was breathing quite heavily and almost dropped the keys as he fumbled to open the door. He almost giggled as he closed it behind him, but composed himself and waited by the door as he listened for the telltale ruckus that was unmistakably Richie.

His heart continued to hammer in his chest even after his breathing had settled. With his body pressed flat against the wardrobe, Stan stared at the wall hoping that Richie wouldn’t see him despite the fact that Richie would know he was there anyways.

A smile cracked wide across Stan’s mouth when he heard the sound of Richie’s heavy steps and the jangling of keys. He felt so childish, but he’s so full of the child like joy that it doesn’t seem to matter. The door opened and Stan winced as he heard it bounce against the wall as Richie entered the room.

He jumped around the corner then and yelled something intelligible, Richie stepped back against the wall as he yelled in return.

“Holy shit Stanley, are you trying to fucking kill me?” Richie exclaimed and held his hand against his heart.

Stan snickered at the sight.

“If I was trying to kill you I think I’d be more efficient than trying to scare you to death,” he said as he reached over to close the door.

“You’re so pleased with yourself,” Richie said, smiling as he shook his head.

“Very.”

Richie surged forward then, capturing Stan’s lips with his own as he pressed their bodies against the side of the wardrobe. Stan was surprised but he wasn’t displeased, quite the opposite actually, he closed his eyes and let Richie descend upon him.

They broke apart breathlessly, huffing air against each other’s lips. Richie’s long and rough fingers were still clasped around Stan’s jaw.

“We should go on another date,” Stan murmured, words ghosting over Richie’s badly chapped lips.

Richie blinked at him for a moment before speaking, “you sure about that Stan?”

“Richie, shut up and let me take you out,” Stan said, he gripped Richie’s shoulders in an attempt to be reassuring.

“How can I deny you when you say it like that?” Richie smiled and Stan saw how it broke some of the already peeling skin on Richie’s bottom lip.

Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out the stick of Vaseline he used for his own lips. Richie watched him rub a generous amount onto his finger before smearing it against Richie’s lip, felt the other lean into the touch.

“See,” Richie said when Stan moved back, “you’re looking after me already,” he smirked and Stan couldn’t help but smile softly in reply.

* * *

Central Park was full of people; people on their own, couples and groups. They wouldn’t be able to stand out unless they really tried. Stan drained his water bottle as Richie held a sweating glass bottle of Coca-cola beside him.

Richie hoped that the book bent in Stan’s hand was enough of a distraction. He was sitting a respectable distance from Stan, too wary of setting the other off again. The comic book he’d only just picked up lied haphazardly in his lap while he held a book about Alan Turing in his hand, he was reading it sparingly as he shifted his eyes back and forth between the book and Stan.

“Stop worrying about me and do some actual studying,” Stan murmured without looking up from his book.

“A study date isn’t the most romantic thing I could think of,” Richie returned, eyes on words he could hardly read over the electric sensation of Stan knowing exactly what he was up to.

Stan was right, he shouldn’t ruin this by spending the whole time worrying. He just had to be there, ready and waiting to support Stan if the need arose. Richie sighed and took a sip of his drink and stared out across the park, the noise and the amount of things to see was a little overwhelming. The chatter of people was raucous and completely filled his ears. Everything was moving, pulsing and twitching, it made his head ache.

Richie had things to distract himself with. Stan was very distracting, he was still worried about the other of course but he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, at least not at that moment. Stan was also stunning and often the centre of Richie’s attention. He could, as Stan suggested, read the books in his lap but his mind was racing and he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the words for long.

The feeling of the sun’s warm press against his skin was nice and he decided to focus on that for a moment, he closed his eyes and let the world slip away from him. He let the heat seep into his skin, let it coarse through his skin and fill him with warmth. His focus pinpointed on the contact of the cool glass of the cola bottle against the palm of his hand.

“Do you remember that time I said you couldn’t do a back flip down the school hall?” Stan spoke, catapulting Richie from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Richie said, he’d done it or more accurately had tried to do it simply because Stan had said that. It hadn’t been the back flip that was the problem, Richie liked tumbling around and had found that those sorts of things were a good use for all of his extra energy. He’d sprained his ankle when it’d hit the ceiling, he was already past six feet back in high school and that was what had been the problem. Richie had hit the floor and folded like a cheap deck chair while everyone laughed at him, Stan included.

“How come you can never say no to a challenge?” Stan asked, he closed the paperback around his index finger and looked over at Richie.

Richie shrugged, he’d thought about it sure, but he hadn’t really explored it too much since he had a good idea as to why and the thought made his teeth itch. If he were to take a stab in the dark, he’d land near attention seeking behaviour, why he was seeking attention was something that Richie was loathe to unpack and so he left it alone.

“How come you can never say no to a challenge?” Richie returned, he knew it was an obvious and childish attempt to change the subject, to shift the focus from himself.

“Pride? A need to feel in control,” Stan said, his face hard and unmoving as he continued to stare at Richie. “How about you?”

Stan wasn’t letting this go, that much was evident in the way he stared Richie down.

“You’re really cramping the romance Stanley,” Richie bristled, evasive as ever. He brought the bottle up to his lips again and took a swig of the cola.

“And you’re avoiding the question Richard,” Stan said, voice steady.

Richie chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stared at Stan staring at him. If Stan was being open enough to admit that it had something to do with Stan’s desire for control then Richie supposed he owed Stan something in return at the very least. Not that Stan would ever think he was owed anything, it was just how Richie felt.

“C’mon Stan, you know I’m an attention seeker,” Richie said, almost mumbling as he toyed with his fingers around the coke bottle. “I don’t want people to forget about me,” he added with a shrug and Stan nodded.

Richie felt his whole body tense up as Stan’s fingers slid over his own in a feather light touch, it lasted barely a moment. Once he’d noticed it was already over.

“Why does this happen whenever we go out?” Richie asked, staring into his lap at the portrait of Alan Turing on the cover of the book.

“I don’t know, but at least we’re being more open with each other, right?” Stan said as though he almost didn’t believe it himself.

“I think so,” Richie said and finished off his coke, “I think you owe me a new one for ruining the mood,” he said as he shook the empty bottle between them.

Stan sighed, but rose from the grass they’d been sitting on, Richie had graciously offered his jacket like a true gentleman. He was glad to be rid of it too, it was far too hot for all that heavy denim. Two birds with one stone, Stan hated that phrase.

He picked his book back up and flicked through it, trying to find where he was. Stan had been scolding him for not using a bookmark since college had started and the thought of it made Richie smile. It hadn’t been so bad, conceding some of his insecurity to Stan, you had to give a little to get some back as they said. Even after knowing each other for most of their lives, there was still so much they had to learn and Richie appreciated the effort that Stan was putting in. It made him feel a little lacking though.

There was so much he could be doing, he’d wanted to make Stan laugh, he’d wanted them to have a good time but all he’d ended up doing was hiding from the other. He needed to get his head out of his ass and be present while they were together. He had to focus, which was kind of Richie’s mortal enemy, but he’d do his best especially for Stan.

Just as he was sinking into his little pit of self loathing, the cool glass of a coke bottle smacked softly against Richie’s forehead. Stan stood over him as he held out the bottle to Richie. He just stared up at Stan as the sun cascaded light down around the other, it caught the ends of Stan’s hair and lit them like a halo around his head. Richie yearned to touch, to lose his fingers in that soft hair, to run his hands over the exposed skin that the sun was kissing.

“I wish we were alone right now,” Richie said, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

Stan’s face stiffened for a moment before a faint blush spread over his cheeks as he continued to hold out the bottle.

“Me too,” Stan murmured barely above a whisper and Richie felt dizzy at the sound.

They spent the rest of the day sat side by side reading as they buzzed with the desire to be intimate.


	22. Chapter 22

Richie had a dilemma, he’d woken up in the middle of the night with the stiffest of erections, that wasn’t necessarily the problem though. The problem arose as he wondered what to do about it. Before he and Stan got together, he would have just wacked off right there under the sheets, now though it just seemed rude. He’d be thinking of Stan while the other slept soundly on the other side of the room and that felt wrong.

He’d never ignored an erection he could do something about, but that night was different. His fingers itched to reach under the waistband of his boxer and wrap his hand around himself for sweet release. Richie was not known for his restraint, in fact it was quite the opposite, his lack of impulse control was quite legendary.

“Are you awake?” Stan’s voice drifted over to Richie’s side of the room and gave him miniature heart attack.

“I wish I wasn’t,” Richie croaked, the added adrenaline worked against him and only made him all the more turned on.

“Did you have a nightmare,” Stan muttered a little sharply and Richie scoffed, if only it’d been a nightmare.

“No, I’ve just got a rock solid erection my dear,” Richie said in a 1930’s gangster sort of voice.

“Don’t you dare jerk off into the sheets,” Stan said sternly.

“Hey, the rule was that I can do whatever I want in my bed as long as I don’t smoke in the room,” Richie said as though he were defending himself, but mostly he just enjoyed riling Stan up.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to know about you jacking off in the middle of the night,” Stan returned, groaning into his pillow.

“I thought that was kind of the point of you being my boyfriend, I think you should be at least a little bit interested in my junk,” Richie snickered, he tried and failed to pretend to be affronted.

“I’m not interested in it right now,” Stan squawked and Richie revelled in the sound.

“Oh, but you are interested,” Richie replied smugly, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the Stan shaped form across the room from him. He didn’t really even know if Stan was looking at him.

“Richie, it’s three thirty in the morning, please go back to sleep,” Stan muttered, he sounded strung out.

“That was kind of my problem there Stanno,” Richie said.

“Just ignore it,” Stan returned sternly.

“Oh my god, do you even know me Stanley,” Richie said as though he were a bit actor in a melodrama playing a little too hard for his part, “I can’t believe you would suggest that I ignore my penis, I haven’t touched it all day, it must be starved for attention.”

“You haven’t taken a piss all day?” Stan asked, half actually scandalised and half scathing joke.  

“You know what I mean,” Richie said, “I cannot ignore it, my impulse control is at breaking point and I’m not walking down the hall just to knock one out in the shower,” he went on as he continued to peer into the darkness.

“Go to the toilet then,” Stan groaned in response.

“Will you be able to sleep knowing that I’m doing the five knuckle shuffle with only one door between us, will you be able to rest not knowing whether I washed my hands or not?” Richie asked, staring pointedly at shape of Stan.

There was no answer and Richie wondered if Stan had to turn the image over in his mind before giving him a response and just when Richie was starting to think that Stan had actually just fallen back asleep, Stan rose from his bed and made his way toward Richie. Slowly, Stan came more into focus until the other stopped before him. Stan’s clambered onto the small space at the edge of the bed and loomed over Richie. Then Stan was kissing him, those tight curls tickled his skin as they pressed their lips together.

“This is only making me more excited Stanley,” Richie warned, murmuring against Stan’s lips.

“Shut up,” Stan whispered softly, he stood and yanked the sheets aside with one sharp movement.

Richie reached for the nightstand, where his glasses were, but Stan caught his wrist as he climbed atop Richie and pressed another kiss to his lips. This one was markedly dirtier, Richie couldn’t help but shiver at the way Stan ran his tongue along the seam of Richie’s lips. They’d been kissing a lot more recently and Stan was a fast learner, he could have Richie’s knees shaking in seconds and right then Richie was struggling not to moan into Stan’s mouth from the way the other’s fingernails were scraping against his scalp.

He moaned around Stan’s tongue and tugged on the soft collar of Stan’s pyjama shirt, heat invaded his mouth and the wet noises they were making made Richie’s head spin. His dick was throbbing from how hard he was, from how much he wanted Stan. He tried to roll his hips up toward Stan’s, but Stan was hovering just out of reach and Richie didn’t miss the way Stan smirked against him.

Then Stan’s mouth was moving down, pressing warm open mouthed kisses to the corner of Richie’s mouth, the side of his face, the jut of his jaw and the along his neck. Richie kept his teeth clenched but his keening whines still slipped between the gaps. Stan’s fingers trailed over him as he continued to grip at Richie’s hair, Stan palmed him through his boxers and Richie gasped outright.

“Is this what you need?” Stan asked, words pressed to the pulse in his neck and Richie strained not to cream his pants right then and there.

“Oh my god Stanley, are you really talking dirty to me right now?” Richie groaned, squirming slightly under Stan’s touch from how oversensitive he was.

The only answer was Stan’s smile pressed into the kisses against Richie’s neck. Stan’s touch was measured and warm as it slowly undid him along with the hot mouth on his skin, Richie had always known that Stan would be able to unravel him with those damn soft fingers and that stern restraint.

He whined when Stan leaned back on his heel, eyes on Richie but Richie couldn’t really see that, as he curled his fingers around the waistband of Richie’s boxers. Richie lifted his hips for Stan to pull them far enough down his thighs to expose him, his erection sprang free, head weeping with precum as it smacked against his bare stomach.

Richie could feel, not quite see, Stan’s eyes upon him. The heavy gaze made him strangely self-conscious in a way he’d never been before. Stan had definitely seen him naked before, but this was very different, he felt scrutinised by those sharp eyes. Then Stan was touching him again, skin against skin and Richie groaned hoarsely into the air between them.

Stan bent over him again and their lips found each other again. Richie had to reach out, had to find something to cling to, fingers lost again in Stan’s hair and Stan sighed softly into his mouth. Even so far gone as he was, Richie wanted to make Stan feel good, it would only be fair. He began to move his free hand down Stan’s side, fingers easily gliding over the soft fabric. Richie slipped his hand into Stan’s pyjama pants, into the confines of the other’s boxers and around Stan’s semi-hard cock.

The slightly high pitched whine that was pressed hard against Richie’s lips was a thrilling reward for his jerky motions. Stan’s free hand was clammy against the side of his face, soft against the sharp cut of his cheek as the hand around his erection kept pumping smoothly.

“What’s wrong Stan, I thought you were supposed to be talking dirty to me?” Richie mocked, voice strained from the effort of talking through the urge to simply moan Stan’s name into his pillow.

Stan sat back again, moving out of Richie’s field of focus. He could feel the shifting of clothes though and he wondered just what Stan was doing until their bodies were pressed together. Richie could feel Stan’s hard dick against his own and his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the sensation.

“Holy fuck,” Richie groaned through gritted teeth as Stan sighed into the crook of his neck, hot breath against his already heated skin.

“Do you want me to talk dirty to you, Richie?” Stan murmured, voice low as he spoke into Richie’s ear.

“Can’t think of something to say?” Richie asked smartly as he rutted up against Stan, knocking the air out of the both of them.

“I’m gonna make you cum against your stomach and then I’m going to come all over it too,” Stan said breathlessly and the words ghosted up Richie’s neck like steam.

“As if you’ll be able to leave that mess,” Richie chuckled hoarsely as he gripped the curve of Stan’s ass and lost himself in the way the muscles moved beneath his touch.

“It’s your body,” Stan said, his pristine little smirk drifted into Richie’s vision as Stan’s hand moved between them and gripped them both.

All sound got caught in Richie’s throat at the sensation of Stan’s rock solid erection pressed hard against his own as Stan’s fingers slid over the both of them. His legs began to quake and the only sound in the room was the slick sliding of Stan’s fairly open fist, Stan’s soft little moans that were sending shivers down Richie’s spine and Richie’s own breathing.

“Cat got your tongue?” Stan asked between harsh breaths.

 _More like a bird’s got my tongue_ , Richie though but didn’t say, not that he could have if he’d wanted to since he was wound so tightly. He was so close, he could feel the peak coming. Head dropped back against his pillow, Richie came then with his toes curled against the sheer force of his orgasm. Mouth gaped in a silent scream with his eyes tightly shut. His cum streamed hotly against his stomach, there wasn’t a whole lot though, since he masturbated almost every day.

He scrambled his shaky hand across the nightstand and finally found his glasses, clumsily he pushed them up his face and Stan’s form finally came into full focus. And boy was it a sight to see. Stan was holding himself over Richie, making certain not to touch any of the cum already on his stomach, lips wet and slightly parted as panted breaths were puffed between them. Stan’s hair was a mess, most likely from Richie’s hands, it was a glorious mess and Stan looked like a windswept angle as Richie bathed in the afterglow.

Their eyes met and the heightened blush on Stan’s cheeks deepened, the sight reminded Richie of cherubs in fancy paintings. Stan’s body stuttered and his muscles went taught, eyes hooded as he came over Richie. It was thick and hot as it surged out from Stan’s throbbing cock. He was shaking against Richie as the aftershocks thrummed through him, Richie rubbed his thigh in an attempt to be soothing.

“Well that was a fucking treat Stan,” Richie wolf whistled and Stan rolled his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Stan said, still catching his breath.

As Richie had predicted, Stan did not just leave him there covered in their communal mess. Stan clambered off of Richie’s body and bed, staggered a little on his way back toward his own bed. He kept baby wipes and a box of tissues in his bedside drawer in case of accidents, this seemed more like a planned accident to Richie but he wasn’t complaining. Richie knew that Stan was always prepared, he was far more prepared than every boy scout in the country as far as Richie was concerned. Stan returned to Richie’s bed, he wiped himself off, pulling up his pyjama bottoms before he wiped Richie down.

“Thanks babe,” Richie murmured as Stan dumped the tissues and wipes in the trash can, too tired to take it out right then, that was definitely an issue for morning Stan.

“Good night Richie,” Stan said making his way back to his own bed.

“Good night Stan,” Richie said and the statement made him feel so wholly domestic. He placed his glasses back on the nightstand, feeling very satiated, Richie fell asleep quickly and deeply that night. 


End file.
